


What's A Fella T' Do?

by iwanna_seeyou_undoit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ...in the sense that they yell at each other a bit and Niall gets a bit nasty there, Angst, Christmas fic, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Smut, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, but he doesn't mean it!, just boys being silly and stupid and idiotic, not much to worry about all in all, they're still clothed and everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanna_seeyou_undoit/pseuds/iwanna_seeyou_undoit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretend!Boyfriends AU where Harry doesn't own any trousers that don't have holes in them, Niall is the only one who can drive, and they definitely aren't shagging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's A Fella T' Do?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldflower/gifts).



> Before we begin, I would like to thank [Vee](http://kittenstyles.tumblr.com/) for being a wonderful, wonderful beta, for soldiering through this monster and understanding what I wanted out of it. 
> 
> Obviously none of this is true. I don't know anything about Niall's family, and none of the portrayals are meant to reflect the characters in any way, or their opinions. Sorry, Deo.
> 
> [Here's](http://8tracks.com/wannaseeyou/what-s-a-fella-t-do) a playlist I made with all the songs I was thinking of when writing certain bits

Niall was fucked. He was well and truly, completely and utterly _bollocked_. All he had wanted was to get his mother off his back about getting a girlfriend. Somehow, for reasons beyond his knowledge, he’d ended up here; sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands tugging at his hair, listening to Harry’s footsteps downstairs and letting the sound of Christmas music drive him slowly mad.

Only five minutes ago he’d been lying flat on his back, head propped up by Harry’s favourite memory foam pillow (that he only stole because he knew how much it pissed the other boy off when the dint in the pillow matched the back of Niall’s skull instead of his own), phone sitting on his chest with his mother chatting away.

He had been quite content running through the list of Christmas gifts he still hadn’t bought in his head, whilst mumbling the occasional agreement as Maura asked for his opinion on her elaborate Christmas dinner plans. Until she’d started talking about is love life, that is.

“Now, love, I know you think you can’t tell me these things – what with your being 22 and at university and all that… But you’d tell me if there was a special woman in your life, wouldn’t you?” Niall had sighed and shifted up the mattress until he was sat on Harry’s pillow (probably not the best long term life goal) and knocked his head against the wall.

“Mam, there’s nothing to tell-”

“Nonsense! I know you must have _someone_ in your life. You were such a ladies man at school, surely in _Manchester_ there’s no shortage of girls?” Maura’s voice shot up into the scale of indignation, rather than probing curiosity. Niall had closed his eyes, thinking that right then would’ve been the perfect time for Harry to have screeched at him about dinner being ready. Of course, no such luck had come his way. “Is it because you’re scared of introducing her to us? Because you needn’t worry. Your father will be on his _best_ beha-”

Niall had decided that, after three years of her nagging, he needed to set the record straight…so to speak. “No, mam, it’s not that…” He must have paused too long because Maura was starting up again, and he could just imagine her drawing herself up to her full height – shoulders squaring and feet planted firmly in front of the bench where she’d said she was making an apple pie.

“Then what, Niall, what is it? You’ve been away for three years, t’ree years and no sound of a relationship at all. Greg’s married and he’s already got Theo, don’t be telling me you’re ‘too young’. He’s only five years older than you, and he met Denise when he was your age. And, look, your gran is only getting older and she would want to see you happy in a relationship, before she…and your auntie keeps asking me about whether you’ve got yerself a missus, and-”

Niall had cut her off, sick of listening to her ramble on about how much his extended family was just _hanging_ out for another Horan brother wedding. “Mam, the reason I haven’t told you about a girlfriend is because I’m gay!” Maura was quiet. Niall decided he’d go the full mile. “I’m gay and I- I have a boyfriend!”

_Shite. Shite. Why did he say that? All he wanted was to stop her talking about him getting a girlfriend, he didn’t want her to…_

There had been a sharp intake of breath on the other side on the line, and Niall wasn’t as scared of her reaction to his newly revealed sexuality, as much as he was worried about- “Niall! A _boyfriend_! Oh, I can’t _wait_ to meet him! You- you _are_ bringing him home for Christmas, aren’t you?” Yeah, that. He’d been afraid of _that._

“Ahh, well actually, mam…” He swore silently at the blank wall at the foot of his bed.

“Do _not_ ‘mam’ me. You are bringing him home for Christmas, no arguments. I’ll set out another cracker. Greg will pick you two up from the bus stop in three days, like we’d arranged. I’m telling your father, so no ringing back trying to convince me you’ve ‘broken up’.” And then she hung up and Niall dropped the phone.

“Fuck!” He dropped his elbows to his knees and ran his hands over his face, trying to rub some sense into himself. Because he didn’t have a bloody _boyfriend_ , and he was getting on the plane to Dublin in two and a half days, and where the hell was he meant to find a boyfriend in _two days_? And a boyfriend he could trust to meet his parents, at that. Shite. He was so, so utterly fucked.

“NIALL!” Harry hollered from downstairs. “DINNER’S COOKED!”

 _Where were you five minutes ago?_ Niall thought. _Could have saved me from outing myself_ and _telling mam about a non-existent boyfriend in the same sentence._

“I’M COMING, HAZ!” He rubbed his hands over his face one more time before hauling himself off the bed up and running down the flight of stairs separating the bedrooms and bathroom from the rest of the flat.

Harry was standing in front of the over, spooning something that smelt _incredible_ onto two dinner plates. He finished up just as Niall sat down at the table with a sigh, and turned around to grin smugly at him. “I made chicken curry.”

Niall tried not to roll his eyes too hard. Ever since he’d know Harry (they’d met three years ago at the coffee shop they both worked at. Harry had been a fresh faced, wide eyed English major, and Niall had been a prematurely jaded sound engineer. They were both first years, and between them, they’d been to less than three lectures before starting their jobs) he had always, _always_ tried his hardest to make ‘traditional home-cooked meals’.

“How much did you spend on groceries this week?” Niall asked, and thanked Harry as he as they sat down.

“Got the chicken for £4.00, don’t worry – we’ll have leftovers for dinner tomorrow.” Harry rolled his eyes at Niall’s expression, and then gestured at his plate. “D’you like it?”

Niall took a cautious bite. The last time Harry had made curry, he’d gone too heavy on the chilli and paprika, causing them both to down 2 whole cartons of orange juice. Thanks to their limited student budget, they’d been stuck only drinking water for the rest of the month. This time, apparently, Harry had bought an illicit can of coconut milk, because the curry was equal parts spicy and soothing.

“’S good,” He decided to let the purchase slide. After all, 90p wasn’t much if it saved Niall’s taste buds from burning off. “Thought we were out of carrots?”

Harry nodded. “I found one in the bottom of the fridge. Was a bit old, but you can’t tell now it’s cooked.”

Niall tried his hardest not to think too much about the state of that carrot, and instead focussed on enjoying the most balanced meal he’s had in the last week and a half. Harry had run out of produce in their meagrely stocked cupboards, and they’d had no choice but to live off macaroni cheese, and cornflakes.

“Gems rang me just before,” Harry up-ended the salt shaker over his plate, and violently smacked the bottom. “We need more salt.”

“What’d she say? We’ll have to wait ‘till next month, mate. Only went to the store a few days ago.” Niall blew on a piece of chicken, and chewed while he waited for Harry to finish his own mouthful.

“Apparently,” He was gesturing with his fork. “Mum and Robin are heading down to Plymouth to visit his family. Gemma’s going to visit Tim’s family, and I refuse to spend 5 hours in the car just to hang around a bunch of people I don’t know or care about.. Since you’ll be in Ireland, I guess that leaves me alone here…or, I dunno. Might ask Louis what he’s up to.”

The mention of Ireland brought the Boyfriend Issue to the front of Niall’s thoughts once again, and he took a big bite of curry to force the worry down. Of course, he ended up choking, and Harry looked across at him in worry. “You okay, mate? You _are_ still going home, right? Your mum wasn’t ringing to cancel was she?”

“No, I’m…” Niall swallowed, and pushed his meal around the plate a bit. “I...um, I came out to me mam, actually.”

Harry set his fork down and stared at Niall with a carefully blank expression. “You... _Niall_.” Niall’s face crumpled and Harry was pushing his chair back and rounding the table to crouch beside Niall and pull him into a hug in seconds.

“I…she just kept going _on_ about when I was going to get a girlfriend, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t let her keep talking about how _happy_ Nan would be, and how _excited_ aunt Margaret would be, and I just-” He sighed and pressed his head into Harry’s shoulder. “I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t stand her not knowing.”

Harry made a sympathetic whine in the back of his throat, and Niall closed his eyes. “So, what did she say?” Harry rubbed his hand over Niall’s shoulders.

“That- She didn’t say…” He sighed. “I may have accidentally told her I have a boyfriend?”

Harry breathed out heavily. “How do you accidentally tell your mother you have a boyfriend?” He pulled away from the hug, and held Niall at arm’s length.

“I panicked, alright? And now I don’t have a boyfriend – obviously, you’d know if I did – and now she expects me to bring one home with me in three days, and… I’m so _screwed_ , Harry.” Niall closed his eyes tight against Harry’s intense gaze, and concentrated on breathing.

Harry was silent for a long moment, and then his hands left Niall’s shoulders. Niall kept his eyes closed, until Harry clapped his hands together abruptly. “I have a plan!”

“What?” Niall frowned and stared at Harry. He’d just come out to his mother, and he was pretty sure he was teetering on the edge of a full blown mental breakdown, and Harry was standing at the kitchen bench grinning.

“I have a plan. You need a boyfriend in three days – two, technically – and I need somewhere to go for Christmas since everyone I know is off having a wonderful time without me and I don’t want to be alone. So, like I said, a plan. _I_ will be your boyfriend. Well, pretend boyfriend. I’ll go home with you for Christmas, and we’ll pretend to be madly in love, and your mum won’t be heartbroken thinking you’re destined to a lifetime alone-”

“Not a _lifetime_ , Harry. I’ll get a boyfriend one day.”

Harry sighed at the interruption. “Shh, you’re disrupting my plan. Your mum will be happy, and _I_ won’t have to spend Christmas alone. And after- How long are we spending with your parents?”

Niall didn’t bother arguing with Harry – there was no point when he was like this. “A week.”

“Right. After a week, we’ll come home and life will continue as usual. Told you I had a plan.” Harry looked so unbearably pleased with himself that Niall didn’t scoff and roll his eyes and turn back to his dinner like he would have if it were anyone else saying this. Harry was his best friend, and he trusted him.

“Haz, we’d have to…mam would expect us to…”

“To kiss? Yeah, I figured. Not like we haven’t kissed before, though. When we’re drink, like – that one time,” Harry sat back down. “And we’d both know it wasn’t like… _real_ or anything.”

Niall nodded. Harry was bi, so Niall knew it wouldn’t be some kind of ‘gay experiment’ that Harry was using him for. “Yeah, I suppose. I mean, what other choice do I have?”

“Hey!” Harry whined. “You make that seem like I’m a last resort. I’ll have you know-”

“You have all the boys _and_ all the girls in the club drooling over you, I know. Not like you waste opportunities to remind us all at every possible moment.”

“Zayn needs reminding…”

“Zayn needs reminding _nothing_. He is, hands down, the biggest catch of us all.” Niall smirked at Harry, and the younger boy finally caved.

“Fine. But no need to sound so disenchanted about having me as a fake boyfriend.” And, okay, Harry actually sounded genuinely upset, so Niall made a show of scraping his plate clean (it always made Harry walk around with a happy glow for a few hours after he’d commended his culinary efforts).

“You’re right, I’m sure you’ll be a great fake boyfriend, H. Can’t wait,” Niall paused. ”You’ll need to be paying for your own airfare, though.”

Harry rolled his eyes and, unlike Niall, didn’t quash the urge to scoff. “ _Right_ , I see how it is. Not even together ten minutes, and you’re already milking me of my money.” Niall chose to ignore the innuendo there, and took their plates to the sink.

“You’ve got it, Haz. And it’s your turn to dry.”

♥ ✈ ♥

It was at breakfast the next day – Niall fiddling with the booking website, because although he’d told Harry he was paying for his own flight, it was easier to book on his behalf – that Harry brought it up again.

“So, I was thinking…” He dunked a teabag in and out of its cup.

“That’s never a good thing to hear before 10am.” Niall looked up from his laptop and grinned cheekily at Harry.

“If we’re going to be boyfriends next week, we should start now. Else your mum might suspect something.” He squeezed the teabag one last time, and dumped it in the sink. Niall sucked his teeth.

“Put it in the bin, will ya? ‘M sick of picking up old tea bags when I wash up.”

Harry made a great show of putting it away, then leaned against the bench, ridiculously large hands curled around the mug. “So…what d’ya think? If we just show up and start snogging, we’re not going to be able to pull it off properly.”

Niall had thought about that himself. Sure, he and Harry had virtually no personal space, but they’d never _kissed_. Just because they found no problem sitting on each other’s knees during movie nights, and just because Niall sometimes snuck into Harry’ bed when he was tipsy or homesick, didn’t mean they’d be comfortable kissing ( _one_ drunk kiss didn’t mean anything. They hadn’t talked to each other for a whole _day_ afterwards). And in front of other people – that was awkward enough if you were in an _actual_ relationship…

“Yeah, I agree. So, um…” He tapped mindlessly on the laptop screen, running his nail down the corners of it under the pretence of getting rid of dust. “What d’we do?”

Harry started tapping his teeth against the rim of his cup, a nervous habit he’d acquired over the last three years of exams and budgeting issues. “I guess we just…do whatever feels right? Like, what we’d do if we were _actually_ together.” And, okay. That made sense.

“Right,” Niall had to consciously stop his foot from tapping a sporadic rhythm against the table leg. “Okay. Are we having the lads over tonight?”

Harry nodded. “’S it okay if Liam brings Sophia?” He rolled his eyes and then winced when the mouthful of tea proved too hot. “They’re leaving to Geoff and Karen’s tomorrow morning, so we need to give them their gifts.”

“I don’t have a problem with it. Bags not sitting next to them, though. Last time I did, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and Liam kept elbowing me in the ribs.” At Harry’s laugh, Niall turned back to the booking site.

“You can sit with me. Might as well jump straight in the deep end – being boyfriends around people, I mean.” Harry pushed off the bench, and made his way over to where Niall was sitting at the dining table, resting his chin on Niall’s shoulder. “Wha’cha doing?”

Niall tilted his head so Harry had a better position – curls tickling against Niall’s ear. “Booking your flight. We can’t get seats next to each other – there or back – but there’s a 10kg carry on baggage limit per person, plus a small bag each, so it’s not too bad, I guess.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Niall, cup of tea steaming right under Niall’s chin, and leaning dangerously forwards. “Ryanair. There’s not gonna be much leg room, then.”

Niall adjusted Harry’s cup so there was a lesser threat of it spilling over his lap (and his laptop), and turned his head so he was nose to cheek with Harry. “It’s cheap, though. Comparatively, at least. £99.97 – return. And the flights aren’t at ridiculous times. So don’t whine about leg room.”

They sat there, just breathing near each other’s faces, until Harry unwound his arms and stood up, taking a big gulp of tea. “Well, I left my credit card details on the fridge. I’ve got to go to work – barista called in sick,” He shrugged, like ‘w _hat can you do?’_ and tipped the dregs of his tea down the sink. “I’ll be home around three. Boys are coming ‘round at four, so.”

He ducked close to Niall and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Which…was nothing unusual, but given their current circumstances, Harry’s hand – warm from holding the cup – curling around his neck - thumb pressed gently into the soft part at the back of his ear - seemed different somehow.

“Be off with you then!” Niall cleared his throat, and pushed Harry away. “Go earn back the money you spent on dinner last night!”

Harry danced away from the nipple pinch Niall was positioning for, and snatched his phone and keys from beside the toaster. “I’m the breadwinner of this relationship, Niall Horan. Don’t you forget that!”

And then he was stumbling around the corner as he tried to simultaneously stuff his feet into his boots, and his phone into the pocket of his jeans. Niall rolled his eyes, and clicked the ‘Book Now’ button on the screen in front of him.

The lads actually turned up at three o’clock. Harry wasn’t home yet, so Niall figured that they wouldn’t be jumping straight into their ‘relationship’ seeing as they hadn’t talked it out yet. Sophia and Liam were predictably joined at the hip, and Niall led them all into the lounge, took Zayn’s proffered carton of beer and went to the kitchen to chill it.

When he returned to the kitchen after swearing at the amount of overly expensive fruits Harry had bought (mangoes and avocados weren’t at all necessary or helpful given their small budget), Liam and Sophia had taken over one armchair, and Zayn and Louis were spread over the sofa.

“Harry said you’d be here at four?” Niall sat down in the only remaining armchair and tucked his feet under himself.

Louis rolled his eyes. “When’s that boy ever gotten the time right?” Niall had to admit that Louis had a point – Harry was forever forgetting and mistaking meeting times. They’d shown up at the cinema just before the end of the credits far too many times before someone thought to take film booking duties away from Harry. “We haven’t put you out, have we?”

Niall shook his head and gestured to where the TV was still playing the rematch of a Liverpool/Tottenham game. “Haven’t been doing jack all day. Harry should be home soon, he would usually be home earlier but he had to take on extra hours, so. Sorry I’m not the best host.”

Zayn shifted on the couch and shoved Louis’ legs off his lap. “You’re _fine_ , Niall. We don’t come over expecting hors d’oeuvres. ‘sides, I dunno why those two come at all.” He gestured toward Liam and Sophia, and they looked up, offended. “Fucking Liverpool, I swear.”

The lads chorused their agreement, even though none of them cared about Tottenham, and Sophia lifted her head from Liam’s shoulder. “Didn’t we beat them last time?”

Louis nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, but they’re still above us on the league table.” He continued his attempt at resisting Zayn’s guarding hands in an effort to rest his legs on his lap. Not that it worked. “So, what’re you all doing for Christmas?”

“Off to Soph’s parents’ for Christmas and we’re spending New Year’s with mine.”

“Dunno, mate.” Zayn pinched Louis’ ankle and finally got him to back off. “Reckon Pez is gonna convince me to go on a pub crawl for New Year - in which case, you’re all coming with me - but I dunno. Why?”

Louis stretched his arms over the back of the sofa. “B’cause me and El’ are staying put and wanted someone to have dinner with. How ‘bout you, Niall? What’re you doing?’

“Um…me and Haz are going to stay with my parents for a week.” He saw the lads turn to look straight at him, and fought the urge to blush – he had nothing to be ashamed about. “His family’s all going away, and he didn’t want to be lonely.”

“Riiiight,” Louis cleared his throat. “So is anyone gonna be around for my birthday?”

Zayn clapped him on the shoulder and raised his hand threateningly when Louis made another attempt to put his feet in Zayn’s lap. “We will be, mate. But if you keep using me as a foot rest I’ll spit in your cake.”

Liam made a move towards Louis, ready to keep him from wrestling Zayn to the floor, but the sound of a key snicking in its latch made everyone fall silent. Niall had only stopped out of sudden panic at what Harry might blurt out before he realised that the lads were there, but he wasn’t sure why everyone else had stopped, too. Usually they’d just continue to try and murder each other.

“I’m home!” Harry called out, footsteps nearing the sitting room. “The lads here already, Ni’?” Louis resumed his movement from earlier and managed to knock Zayn backwards on the couch before Liam could stop him.

Niall tried to convince himself there was no reason for him to be acting this strangely. It was only Harry. What damage could he do?

“We’re in here, Harry!” He called out, standing up from the couch, and walking towards the kitchen to grab them all beers now that Harry was home. Before he could reach the doorway of the lounge, he was stopped by Harry’s tall frame.

“Hey, babe.” He said in a loud enough voice to make Louis pause for a moment before he continued wrestling Zayn off the sofa. Before Niall could react, Harry was ducking down to press his lips against Niall’s.

It was over before Niall could even register the way Harry felt against him – lips dry and soft and fleeting – but it was nowhere near quick enough for the other lads to have _not_ noticed it. The room was thrown into immediate silence.

“I’ll just… Beer.” Niall slipped around Harry and disappeared into the kitchen – bracing his hands against the countertop. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling so caught out – Harry had talked to him about this that morning – but he _was_.

Maybe it was the fact that he and Harry had only kissed once before when they were both plastered and perhaps it was the shock of doing it sober. But…he didn’t think it was that. Maybe it was the casualness of it all – Harry pressing close to him in the doorway after just returning home – but Niall didn’t think it was that, either.

_Pull yourself together._

He opened the fridge and took out six beers, not quite as cold as they could have been, but still cold enough to let condensation drip down the label.

_You talked about this, it’s not a big deal. If you’re making it into a big deal now, what’re you gonna do when it happens in front of your family?_

He pressed a bottle to his forehead, somewhat soothed by the cold, damp pressure against his skin.

_Get out there and get over yourself._

Everyone looked up to stare at him when he re– entered the room, Harry included. Liam and Sophia had introduced a bit more space between them, and Zayn and Louis were no longer fighting for personal space on the sofa. Harry was sat on the remaining armchair, and smiled slowly up at Niall.

“You’ve expensive taste in beer, mate,” Niall handed out bottles to everyone – saving Harry for last, because he didn’t want to have to acknowledge his gaze until he really, really had to. Zayn wrinkled his nose at him in passing.

“Don’t get all ‘slighted student on a budget’ on me, Niall. I get staff discounts, don’t I?” And, yeah. Zayn was the lucky shit head who wrangled a job at a liquor store.

Him and Perrie never seemed to run out of bottles of vodka, whiskey, RTDs, and beer. Their wine stock was a bit meagre, because apparently Zayn had issues with sharing a Pinot Noir with anyone he wasn’t sleeping with.

When he couldn’t legitimately put off going to Harry any longer, Niall handed him his beer while making the briefest eye contact possible, and made to sit on the floor at his feet.

“No. C’mere.” Harry made grabby hands for Niall, and unfolded his legs. Niall took a deep, calming breath and settled himself on Harry’s lap. Immediately, arms snaked around his waist, anchoring him closer to Harry’s chest. “You okay?” He murmured against Niall’s ear.

The warm brush of Harry’s hand at his hip, above his shirt, soothed something in Niall, and he mustered a smile that wasn’t quite as forced as it had been. “I reckon so, yeah. Just…unexpected.” Harry froze underneath him.

“Oh? I…we talked about it…?” He sounded mortified at himself, whisper choked with something _just_ shy of panic. Niall shook his head and pressed his forehead into the crook of Harry’s neck immediately.

“No, yeah we did. Just wasn’t expecting it, is all. It’s fine though, H. We’re fine.” He pressed a close-mouthed kiss to the warm skin where Harry’s jumper had drifted aside. Zayn cleared his throat, and Niall jerked back – only just realising that he and Harry had been communicating in private whispers, and the rest of the room was still quiet and immobile.

“Did you tell ‘em?” Niall asked at a more public volume, and Harry shook his head.

“Was waiting for you.” He pressed the tips of his fingers of the small of Niall’s back, and they watched the expression on everyone’s faces as they jumped to conclusions.

“You little shits,” Louis began.

“How long’ve you been hiding this?” Liam took the liberty of finishing.

Niall twisted his neck around to grin up at Harry. “I can promise it’s not what you’re thinking.” Sophia led the eye roll, and Harry interrupted the beginnings of a rant about the importance of honesty from Zayn.

“Niall came out to his mum and managed to tell her he had a – non-existent – boyfriend. So I suggested _I_ go home with him and we pretend to be boyfriends for a week. Which,” He patted Niall’s knee. “I realise doesn’t explain why we kissed just before, but we figured we might as well start pretending now so that there’s no way his family can see through the charade and call him out on it.”

“You’re both mad.” Liam shook his head, and cuddled Sophia closer again. Louis nodded his agreement and Niall began to feel awfully judged. Zayn, as usual, broke the building tension in the room.

“I reckon. Why would anyone want to date Harry? He’s a bit mad, i’n’ he?”

Niall wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and pressed their cheeks together, the angle being the only thing making it awkward this time. “This coming from the Art major.”

Harry hummed his appreciation against the side of Niall’s face and then ruined the ‘put-out’ effect by pulling away to sneeze – loud and garish.

Everyone turned their attention away from the ‘actually for real now married couple’ as Louis had taken to calling them, and towards the third quarter of the football match on the television.

“Fucking Liverpool.” Zayn brandished his beer at Louis when he began inching his feet back towards his lap.

“Hey,” Harry piped out. “I know we don’t like them, but there’s no need to be so hateful. They’ve got families too!”

Sophia shot him a grateful look – clearly she’d had this argument with Liam many times before, and Niall didn’t envy her any. Liam and Zayn had fairly regular footie nights that she was subjected to as a result of living with one of Manchester United’s most avid supporters.

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Louis agreed and everyone looked at him in surprise, remembering the many drunken hate-speeches he’d directed at the Liverpool team. “But I’m not sure their fans do!”

Zayn and Liam cheered and raised their bottles high in the air, which, unfortunately for Zayn, gave Louis the perfect opening to settle his feet heavily over Zayn’s groin. Niall rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter while his best mate pouted out of his need to always be a good and honourable Samaritan.

Typical night in.

♥ ✈ ♥

“Bro?”

Niall had been lying flat on his back in the middle of the lounge floor, contemplating why in the hell he was taking Harry to Ireland with him. The past two days hadn’t been _too_ terrible, all things considered, but… Harry had kissed him again before the lads and Sophia left, and he’d insisted on making Niall his tea (which wasn’t anything unusual) but he’d bent around Niall’s back and kissed his neck as he did it, and that was, well…

He groaned and sat up, rubbing his palm over the left side of his face – trying to force some sanity back into himself. He was taking Harry with him because his mother expected it.

“What?” He answered Harry with a yell, seeing as the initial question had come from the direction of Harry’s room.

“What should I be packing?” Harry had been having multiple aneurysms just _thinking_ about having to fit presents _and_ clothes _and_ shoes into just one carry on bag, and now that he had no choice, he wasn’t handling it very well.

“Mate, it’s Christmas. It’s Ireland. The airports are having delays because of bad weather. It’s going to be arsing cold, so work around those requirements.” He’d told Harry this so many times that he could kind of forgive himself for being short-tempered.

And then, a moment later, he remembered that Harry was doing him a massive favour and that he’d be forever indebted to him. He should probably be making an effort to be patient with his fake boyfriend.

“Fine,” He sighed and stood up. “I’ll come help.”

A pause and then a massive cheer. “ _Thanks_ , bro!”

Niall rolled his eyes and reminded himself to have words with Harry about his over-usage of that word. It had been questionable enough when they were just best mates living together and arguing over what they could feasibly take off the grocery list so they stayed within budget, but now that they were pretend dating, it was time to have serious words with Harry about it.

Harry’s room was…a bit of a disaster zone. For someone who was neat beyond belief and smacked Niall upside the head for leaving his socks on the floor of his _own room, thank you very much_ , the clothes and shoes spread over every available space were a bit of a surprise. “Christ, Harry. What’s going on in here?”

That earned him a half-hearted glare. “Well, you wouldn’t help me pack,” Harry whined, and Niall kicked at one of three pairs of black boots.

“How do you have so much stuff? Thought we were meant to be broke?” He caught sight of Harry’s half-filled suitcase and shook his head. “Jean shorts and a vest, H? You are aware of the climate in Ireland?” While Harry crossed his arms and pouted some more, Niall upended the case on the floor.

“So what’ve _you_ packed, then?” If Harry thought he was going to get Niall to admit to taking something incriminating – like a pair of bloody _jean shorts_ for Christ’s sake – he was sorely mistaken.

“T’ree jumpers, some t-shirts, an overcoat, couple pairs of sweats, clean underwear, and two pairs of jeans. And two pairs of shoes. I’m wearing my black jeans and a hoodie on the plane, so don’t go looking at me like I’ve forgotten something,” He picked a jersey up off the floor, examined it, and then swiftly folded it, placing it in Harry’s case. “And some gloves and a beanie. Mam’ll want us to help Theo wit’ a snowman.”

Harry’s face softened at the mention of Theo. “How old is he now? Can I play with him, d’ya think?” He tossed a pair of jeans at Niall, who immediately saw the _utter_ lack of fabric around the knees, and cast them into the rejects pile. Much to Harry’s chagrin.

“He turned one in July. Reckon Greg’ll let ya play with him after a day or so – he’s awfully protective.” Niall had half of Harry’s suitcase filled with clothes by now. “Gonna go wit’ one more pair of trousers, and then we’ll save the rest for gifts. You’ll just have t’ wear your coat on the plane, sorry.”

Harry nodded, and waved a pair of joggers in the air. Niall knew from experience that they were nearly threadbare, but he let them pass. Harry could freeze his balls off if that’s what he wanted. “What about pants and socks, though?”

Niall pulled a face. “You can pack your own boxers, mate. Surely you can manage that by yerself.” He ducked to avoid a balled up t-shirt to the face, and ran giggling from the room. “Wake up call at six o’clock, yeah? Gotta be checked in half an hour before the flight leaves at eight, and I know how long you take in the shower.”

“What, b‘cause you perv’ on me and then tell my boyfriends ‘bout how I shower? Ethan broke up with me ‘cause of that, you dickhead.” That was a particularly sore spot for Harry – one he kept bringing up at every opportunity to shame Niall.

Harry’d been dating this guy, Ethan, for a couple of weeks, and had finally decided to introduce him to the lads. They (that is, everyone except Harry) had thought Ethan was a little shady, but they’d been on their best behaviour – shaking his hand and offering him a beer and arguing over football teams with him.

Liam had started them off talking about Harry’s habits, and Niall had made the mistake of mentioning that he showered with his head down. It was something he only knew because there’d been countless times that Harry had gotten a poor grade, or missed out on a course, or a traineeship somewhere, and Niall had parked himself on the closed toilet lid, trying to make Harry laugh while the other boy showered.

It wasn’t as though they had a glass doored shower – they were uni students for Pete’s sake – and they’d invested in a shower curtain early on; but Niall could still see Harry’s lanky shadow behind yellow and blue ducks and polka dots.

Ethan had taken immediate offense, accused Harry of being ‘nothing but a cheating slut’, and walked out of the flat, slamming the door (Harry’s personal pet peeve), and taking an unopened bottle of beer with him.

Zayn had held back on complaining about the utter _lack of manners_ that act had displayed, because the other boys were too busy trying to simultaneously console Harry, apologise on Niall’s behalf, and convince him that Ethan was a slime bag and not worth Harry’s tears.

“I _am_ sorry about that, Haz. You know that, right?” Niall re-entered the room, looking sheepish and scuffing his socks along the carpet.

“’Course I do,” Harry nodded earnestly. “B’sides, he was bollocks anyway. Kissed with all the finesse of a snail.” Niall shook his head, laughing.

“You don’t really mean that. I _distinctly_ remember you creeping into my bed – very sober – and telling me all about how he’s the best kisser you’ve ever met. Don’t deny it now as an excuse for your horrendous oversight in personalities.” He crossed his arms and thought to himself that really, if Ethan hadn’t been such a torrid human being, he was well hot.

Harry needn’t know that, though.

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.” Harry whined, trying on the pitiful puppy dog eyes that worked on everyone but Niall.

“Ah, but here is where we differ, Harold. I agreed not to speak of that, with the _exemption_ of cases where blackmail is needed.” It was true: Niall wasn’t above bringing up old secrets that his friends thought had been buried along with the hatchet, while Harry was too honourable to _ever_ bring something like that back to life.

“I don’t see what you’re blackmailing me for. You just packed my suitcase for me, if anyone should be blackmailed, it’d be you.”

“Want you to make me a cup of tea, don’t I?” Niall rested one shoulder against the doorframe, and watched as Harry uncrossed his arms and stepped closer.

“I will…” Niall’s throat tightened as Harry approached him slowly. “If you kiss me. Need to prove you won’t be another Ethan. Can’t have a fake boyfriend who kisses like a snail.”

Before Niall could confirm again that all evidence pointed to the contrary, Harry’s hands were on his shoulders and he was kissing him. Niall parted his lips slightly, so they were properly kissing and not just pressing their mouth together. After all, they’d be in Mullingar by lunchtime the next day, so they needed to get used to being a bit more intimate.

Harry pulled away with a self-satisfied noise, and brushed their shoulders together as he passed Niall in the doorframe. “I don’t _think_ you’ve any relatives in snails, but I can’t be sure.”

And Niall just couldn’t let him get away with that, so he followed after his best friend, passing him in the hallway with a soft pinch to the bum and a quick, “Guess we’ll have to keep trying, then,” that he didn’t know he had the courage for.

♥ ✈ ♥

Breakfast was a bit of a shambles, really. Niall had woken up before Harry and even though he’d promised to wake him as soon as he got out of bed, Harry had looked so peaceful sleeping with his cheek mushed against the pillow he’d stolen back from Niall’s bed that first night this all started, that Niall couldn’t bring himself to wake him. Not without a cup of tea, at least.

It was ridiculously British and stereotypical of them both, really, that they had such a penchant for tea, but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

They were a pair of self-respecting, twenty one year old university students who tended to spend more money on PG Tips than they probably should, and there was nothing wrong with that - _despite_ what they’d promised each other a thousand times before when they ran out of money for a bag of rice because they’d prioritised a box of 160 tea bags ( **get 60 free!** ) over what could’ve been at least four balanced meals.

Niall switched the radio on while he waited for the jug to boil, and grinned when he found out Harry had pre-set the radio station to something playing The Eagles.

He’d just built up to the wave of nostalgia he always got when the song went: _‘The time of year to be with the ones you love, so won't you tell me you'll never more roam’_ , when Harry stumbled into the room, wiping sleep from his eyes, wearing only his boxers despite the freezing air of the flat, and singing.

“ _Oh there’ll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain. And I'll be happy. Christmas once again_ ,” He yawned and ducked down to press a fleeting kiss to Niall’s cheek. “G’morning babe.”

Niall handed Harry a mug, and watched as he pressed the rim to his lips so he could inhale the steam. “Sleep well?” He left his own cup sitting beside the jug, and turned to take the cornflakes out of their cupboard beside the sink.

Harry hissed as he took a sip of too-hot tea, and scratched idly at his bare stomach. “Was alright, yeah. Last night in my own bed and all that,” He let out a tremendous yawn and nodded towards where Niall was pouring soy milk (because it was cheaper, and they only used the real stuff in their tea) over his bowl of cereal. “Can you pour me one as well? Better go get dressed I s’pose.”

It was a narrowly won thing that Niall resisted rolling his eyes, because they had about – he checked the clock on the microwave – ten minutes until they needed to be in the car and driving to the airport if they wanted to make check in, and Harry was still wondering ifit was _necessary_ to right this minute put some clothes on.

“Bring my case down with yours, would you?” Niall called after him, and Harry raised an awkward thumbs up above his head while he loped off down the hallway in itty bitty boxers that somehow kept ending up in Niall’s washing pile even though they were ridiculously gaudy and purple and patterned.

The only pair of pants with drawings on them that Niall owned had four leaf clovers on them. Harry had seen them and immediately christened them the ‘getting lucky, lucky pants. Get it?’ Niall was honestly living with an idiot. _And_ , officially starting in about five hours, he was dating an idiot.

Harry came out a few minutes later wearing his dark blue, very-fucking-expensive, how-did-Gemma-afford-that? coat and his ripped jeans. He was carrying Niall’s case, though, and he looked like he could be forced out the door if Niall put his tea in a travel mug and pouted a little, so Niall didn’t call him out on it. Depending on how the flight went, Niall could bully Harry into changing his trousers in Dublin before they got to Mullingar.

“We’ve not really got time for you to eat an entire bowl of cereal, so I made toast? You can eat that in the car, because we’re running late.” Before Harry could complain, Niall swapped his suitcase for Harry’s cup of tea and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. While Harry stood there dumbly, still trying to process Niall making a move for the first time, he jammed two slices of toast in Harry’s open mouth.

Harry didn’t react, just raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly and opened the door with his elbow, holding it open with his hip so Niall could squeeze through carrying his suitcase and the envelope containing their tickets. Niall locked the door and pushed his shoulder against it to check it _really_ had locked while Harry waited by the boot of their car.

He nearly took himself out – head cracked against the icy pavement – when his suitcase twisted in his grip and knocked into his ankles, but he somehow managed to remain standing and flip a laughing Harry off, so everything was okay.

The lads all thought it was hilarious that they shared a car, and no matter how many times they sat them down and explained it was only because petrol cost an arm and a leg, and they couldn’t really afford to lose two limbs each, Liam kept raising his eyebrows, Louis kept pushing fake marriage certificates through the windows, and Zayn….

Yesterday, Niall had braved the walk to the mailbox because Manchester in December was like living in an icebox, and found the back window of the car hung with a streamer reading: **_JUST MARRIED!!_** and then, in smaller script just above the number plate: **_just kidding, we’re both twats._**

Harry had found it all rather hilarious, but Niall had some difficulty finding the funny side of arsing over on the road behind their Honda Civic in the freezing cold weather, trying to take the banner down because Zayn had tied it to the mailbox and Harry had an awful habit of driving off without checking.

After swinging his case into the boot, he moved to help Harry with his, but was pushed away by a travel mug thrust into his chest. He headed towards the driver’s seat while Harry hefted his case into the car and tried to keep the toast from falling out of his mouth.

Harry patted the boot and then fit his legs into the footwell of the passenger seat. Niall handed him his mug of tea, and Harry could finally take the toast out of his mouth. He made pleased sound in Niall’s direction as he chewed because Niall’d used his favourite jam. What a great pretend boyfriend he was.

“We’ve got about half an hour before we’re there, right?” Harry patted Niall’s knee to keep him from swearing blue murder at the pensioner who’d cut a fine line between the back of their reversing car and her own two-door Smart™ car.

“Yeah, H. Do you wanna put a CD on? I think I broke the aerial coming out of Tescos, sorry.” He had _awful_ luck which caused him to encounter every single person who should _never_ have gotten their licence, and while Niall was usually quite patient, he had terrible road rage.

Harry was pretty sure he’d already heard the story about the football mum in the people carrier, whose wing mirror had somehow managed to catch on the aerial of the Civic and pull it from the vehicle.

“Not like it’s a big loss. That aerial could never pick anything up except the talkback shows,” It was true. They couldn’t even get the Oldies stations, or country, or Greatest Hits or anything. Niall knew far too much about Manchester’s opinions on David Cameron than he really cared to know. “How’s some Kodaline sound?”

Harry waved a CD just outside of Niall’s peripheral vision, and he shrugged. “Like a bloody dream compared to the crap Louis made me listen to when I drove him to El’s.”

Harry barked out a laugh and slipped the CD in, the car making its usual noise of complaint as it registered the fact that it might have to do a bit more work than just pointing its nose in the right direction. When the disc finally decided to play, Harry set about fiddling with the air vents. Niall reached out to place a hand over his own vent and sighed, feeling some blood return to his fingers.

For all the car’s shortcomings, the heating was the best thing in the world on cold mornings like this. The same couldn’t be said about the air-conditioning, but in a city where the highest average temperature was 16°C, automatic windows did the job just fine.

Harry necked his cup of tea, and about twenty minutes into their journey, he was bouncing in his seat, complaining to Niall about _really really seriously_ needing to wee. Niall didn’t see why he was so surprised – tea always went straight through Harry, but he was trying his best not to scream at the slow moving traffic in front of them, so he didn’t distract Harry with silly conversation as he usually would.

“Just hang on until we get to the airport. You can wee then, I’m sure,” He flicked his indicator on aggressively and Harry made a whining noise that was both a reaction to Niall’s lack of sympathy, and pity for his rough treatment of the car. Niall patted the dashboard in an absent apology, but was too focused on the lorry making a ridiculous U-turn in the middle of the road. “For fucks sake! Do they not realise that some people have places to _be_?”

Harry crossed his legs and reached across the gear shift to run a hand through Niall’s hair. “The flight leaves at eight. We have time, Niall, we have time.”

“Stop misquoting Mamma Mia at me, and… could you please shoot that lorry driver?” Niall refrained (just) from banging his head against the steering wheel, and Harry made a snorting noise.

“’S a bit illegal, babe. I know,” His hand moved down to pat Niall’s thigh in what (Niall was sure) was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but only managed to distract him from driving. “The law sucks. Who needs it, right? Murderers should have the same freedom as the rest of us, and all that, but…the airport’s not far away – a…maybe a ten minute drive – so just…hang in there.”

Niall refrained from smiling at Harry’s ridiculousness, and _finally_ got past the lorry, and it was all smooth sailing from there. Except, the car’s suspension was bollocked, and the road was the sort of surface that was fine if you were driving a car built after 2005, but that felt like driving over a lava bed if you were in a Honda Civic from late 2001. You win some, you lose some.

At the airport, Harry left Niall with the job of unloading the luggage and finding a space to park their car for a week, and sprinted off in the direction of the domestic terminal. He was going in entirely the wrong direction, given that Dublin was _international_ , but it was the closest building and Harry had threatened to just pee out the window if he had to wait one _second_ longer for a toilet.

Harry had bolted out of the car when they were still in the drop off bay, trying to find their bearings, and Niall had to drive a fair bit further to get to the extended-stay parking garage. By the time he got back to the domestic terminal with their luggage balanced on a rickety old trolley, Harry was leaning against the wall – one foot propped against the wall – looking bored and slightly amused. “What happened to ‘we’re running late’?”

Harry’s case had weighed a ton thanks to whatever he’d bought for Maura, and the trolley’s wheels kept catching against little stones and threatening to tip the whole thing over.

“Shut up and tell me where our terminal is.”

Harry pointed back in the direction Niall had come from, and he damn near had a fit. Catching a plane wasn’t meant to be this stressful, but apparently everything with Harry had to be slightly more complicated than necessary. Case in point: the pretend boyfriends debacle.

Niall gave the trolley an almighty shove which ended with the case piling onto the footpath and while Niall swore and kicked the useless wheels, Harry ducked down and picked both cases up, extending the handles and propping both of them against his leg with one hand to balance them. He used the other to snake around Niall’s waist and pull him close enough that the fronts of Niall’s calves knocked against the luggage.

He was distracted from his frustration with all forms of airport transport – because while it hadn’t yet snowed in Manchester, it _was_ foggy and their flight would inevitably be delayed – by Harry pushing their lips together and pulling away just as quickly.

“Should probably get going, yeah?” He handed Niall the handle of his case, and held out his free hand for Niall to grip. Which…Niall was thankful for, actually. Because, while he had the bladder of someone eight months pregnant, couldn’t drive, and had no concept of time, he was a pretty amazing human being and he never got annoyed when Niall got tetchy.

They must have looked like right twats, walking between terminals with their carry on cases dragging behind them and jumping over stones and rolling over every few hundred metres, hands joined and slowing their progress something terrible, but it kept Niall’s travel anxiety at bay (though he secretly knew it wasn’t about the flight at all.)

His mother was going to meet Harry – Harry whom he’d talked about constantly (as his _best mate_ , mind you), Harry who was now pantomiming as his boyfriend. And, as it turned out, they needn’t have worried about being late for check in, or about the plane not taking off, because they were the first people in line, and the fog lifted just as the peppy voice announced, _“Ryanair, flight T370 to Dublin”_.

While the Manchester part of the flight went off without a hitch (there weren’t very many passengers, so despite not booking at the same time, Niall and Harry were able to nab seats next to each other), Dublin proved to be a different story.

The pilot announced that there would be a short delay with landing because of snow on the runway, and Harry gripped Niall’s hand deathly tight because while he could deal with flying in a straight line, the idea of continuously banking and drifting and waiting above an endpoint with unfortunately situated turbulence did nothing for his nervous system.

‘A short delay’ turned into ten minutes of dodgy air currents tipping Harry sideways into Niall’s seat, and some very ill looking passengers. They plane did finally land, but in a section of runway that didn’t have a connecting aerobridge , so they had no choice but to grip each other’s elbows and hold onto their bags for dear life while they hobbled down the stairs and directly onto the (no longer snowy but definitely icy) runway.

Once they made it indoors – thankfully still alive and unharmed, save for very numb noses – the sudden blast of warm air turned their extremities from ice cold to icy hot, and Harry had the sudden urge to use the loo again.

This time, though, he had to wait through a rigorous Customs check thanks to the IRA, and he didn’t once stop complaining. Niall just shook his head and lectured him about how he shouldn’t have had that extra glass of water, not least because Ryanair was so budget it actually _charged_ for water. Niall couldn’t keep from laughing when Harry was sent through the metal detector three times before they realised it was the buttons on his bloody coat setting the beeper off, not his belt buckle.

As soon as they got through, Harry dumped his suitcase directly on top of Niall’s feet, _what on_ earth _did that boy pack?,_ and sprinted off to the toilet. He took a bloody long time, and when he finally got back, he looked very bashful and slightly sweaty.

“I got a bit lost coming back,” _Add that to the list of things Harry isn’t very good at_ , Niall thought. “And I looked at the bus timetable and I think we might maybe miss it if we don’t, like, sprint.” Niall had been looking forward to one of the slightly more upmarket baggage trolleys of Dublin, and the lack of suitcase wheels banging against his ankles, but apparently that was a luxury he just wouldn’t be afforded.

They took off at something just short of a sprint, and found that Dublin International Airport was deceptively difficult to navigate. They literally skidded to a halt at the bus terminal thanks to the cleared snow that had hardened to ice on the footpath, just as the bus rounded the corner.

Niall pulled Harry closer to him by the lapels of his coat, and dug through the inner pockets (Gemma had really spent a lot of money on her little brother’s last birthday. It had _two_ interior pockets) to find the tickets that would take them to Mullingar.

It was only once they were seated on the bus, knees knocking together and elbows jostling against one another as the bus accelerates, that Niall realised he didn’t have time to even consider bullying Harry into changing into some less holey jeans.

He considered (just briefly) asking Harry to change sitting down in his seat, but rolled his eyes at himself, and decided against it. Harry wasn’t _actually_ his boyfriend, so if all it took was ripped jeans to make a bad impression on his mother, it didn’t’ really matter. And, he thought logically, the coat should be enough to detract from the jeans.

Harry pulled his iPod from his pocket, slipped one earbud in his ear, and handed the other to Niall. Niall gave it a thankful shake in Harry’s direction and smiled tiredly. Travelling always made him tired, and even though it was only just past nine in the morning, he rested his head against Harry’s shoulder and drifted off to Boyzone, thinking about how ironic ‘ _don’t love me for fun, girl. Love me for a reason_ ’ was, and how the song choice was quite a marked divergence from Harry’s usual taste in music.

♥ ✈ ♥

“Ni? Babe, we’re nearly there,” The first thing Niall was conscious of was an uncomfortable pressure in his side, just above his hip. “C’mon, Ni wake up.” The shaking was no longer just the constant rumble of the coach, but Harry’s hand, rubbing circles into Niall’s shoulder. He lay there for a few moments before he realised where he was and jolted upright.

He had fallen asleep resting his head on Harry’s oddly comfortable shoulder, but as he rocketed straight up, he realised he’d slipped down to Harry’s lap and had – _oh god_ – left a drool patch in the middle of Harry’s thigh. The pain in his side was the irremovable armrest.

He swiped a hand over the side of his face, hoping that there was no noticeable signs of drool. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen asleep with his head on Harry’s lap, but it _was_ the first time he’d done it while they were pretend boyfriends, and that, for some reason, made it different.

“Sorry, H. Right good boyfriend I am. Leaving you to be bored on public transport.” Niall fell back on his usual defence mechanism, and Harry rolled his eye, taking out the earbud he must have reclaimed as soon as Niall fell asleep. It was playing something that sounded suspiciously like Tom Petty.

Niall couldn’t help but wonder if the Boyzone had been something Harry had been playing purely for Niall’s sake. He decided to ignore that thought.

“Nah, I didn’t miss you much. The old lady two seats back wasn’t so keen on having your feet in the aisle, though.” And, yes, Niall’s legs were rather sprawled out, weren’t they? He rectified that, and got ready to stand up when the familiarity of Castle Street, Mullingar came into view.

“Up, now Haz.” Somehow Harry managed to trip himself up getting out of his seat, and Niall attempted to act like he didn’t know who he was while he retrieved their cases and thanked the driver.

Greg was parked across the road, outside the Chinese restaurant, and Niall grabbed the back of Harry’s coat before he threw himself into the path of an oncoming people mover. Niall decided he thoroughly disliked the things, and that they were the bane of automotive society. Which was rich, coming from someone who co-owned the car he did.

“Brother!” Niall thumped on the boot like he knows Greg hates, and motioned Harry towards the back seat. “How’re things? How’s the little man?” The screaming coming from beside Harry should have been enough of an indication, but when he climbed in the passenger seat Greg grinned at him.

“Bought him some little footie boots the other day. He’s just started pulling things off the higher shelves, so the house is a bit of a mess,” He pulled out dangerously close to an oncoming postage van, and when Niall squeaked in protest and shock, he huffed out a breath. “Oh, you’re just as bad as dad.”

Niall fiddled with the heating so that it was blowing right in his face. “And you’re just as bad as mam. How many accidents has she had this year?” He twisted in his seat to grin back at Harry, who was happily enduring an attack from Theo’s little fists and a blue fire truck. “This is Harry, by the way.”

Harry looked up and smiled at Greg in the rear view mirror. Niall laughed when Theo took advantage of his distraction to throw the truck at the side of Harry’s head. Greg sighed long-sufferingly.

“Theo, no throwing things at people,” Then he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s in the mirror. “I figured as much, wouldn’t be expecting a stranger to climb into the backseat of my car. Hey, Harry.”

“Hi. Thank you for picking us up.” He smiled once more and then went back to hitting Theo’s little fists away from himself.

“We couldn’t have you two catching a taxi, now could we? Never know when you might arrive home.” Greg misjudged how tightly he needed to turn a corner, and nearly collected a lamp post.

Niall swore under his breath, then glanced guiltily back at Theo. “I swear, you’ve been driving these streets your whole life and you still can’t remember that corner.” Theo let out a perfectly timed shriek that Niall took as agreement. Harry had apparently decided to join in on the mocking.

“Your dad’s risking your life, huh little man?” Theo patted violently at Harry’s face in answer. Greg sighed again and Niall rolled his eyes in Harry’s direction before turning back around to root through the glove box.

“Oh, right, thanks Niall. Getting your boyfriend to gang up on me, how’s that fair? I can’t very well wallop him in the balls, can I?” He flicked on the indicator and then proceeded to turn in the opposite direction.

“Why not? You don’t hesitate to do it to me.” Niall complained and shifted so there was no way Greg could reach his crotch with one of his scarily accurate blind dick slaps.

“Because, what if you want to have children one day?”

Harry snorted and Theo startled backwards into his car seat at the strange noise before erupting into giggles. Niall frowned. “Lads can’t get pregnant, Gregory. And, what makes you think Harry tops?”

“What makes you think I don’t?” Harry piped up and Greg reached behind him to offer Harry a high five. It meant that Greg had only one hand on the wheel and completely missed the next turn off, so Niall clenched his teeth while Greg executed a highly illegal U-turn.

“Harry,” Greg announced after they were safely on the correct side of the road. “I believe I like you very much. It’s totally my brother getting knocked up out of the both of you.” Harry did that hyena cackle that Zayn and Liam mocked him endlessly for and Niall couldn’t help but find strangely endearing. In this case, though, not so much.

“Ni!” Theo shouted, and Niall turned around to raise his eyebrows at his nephew.

“What is it, little man?” Theo waved his truck in the air and threw it into the front seat. Niall drew back behind the safety of his headrest, and decided not to grace any of them with an answer. They all hated him.

Harry reached around the seat when Greg announced that they were on the home stretch of the journey. “Niall, I’m sorry. I love you, really,” He pressed his fingers into the soft skin of Niall’s hip and pouted endearingly around the head rest. “Please forgive me. I’ll get pregnant if you really don’t want to.”

Niall knew his ulterior motive, of course he did – he’d been living with Harry for three years. Harry was a coward who didn’t want to meet Niall’s parents unless Niall was entirely, one hundred percent happy with him. “Lads can’t get pregnant, Harry.” Knowing Harry’s motives didn’t stop Niall from forgiving him, though.

Greg pulled up in the driveway and popped the boot. He turned to Niall, looking desperate. “Theo’s a right terror to get out of his seat. Can you get him, and I’ll grab your bags?” Before Niall could answer (but it wasn’t like Niall planned on saying no. Theo _loved_ him), he was out of the car and opening the boot.

Harry grabbed on to Niall’s shoulder when he got out of the vehicle, slipping on a patch of ice, and Niall decided that de-snowing the driveway and public footpaths was a very bad idea with Harry around. He could cope with wading through snow, but putting someone who was already unsteady on dry ground on _ice_ was a recipe for disaster.

Niall left Harry to find his own way to the boot, and walked around the car to fetch Theo. “Hey, little man. Ready to go inside and get warm?” Theo anticipated him reaching for his buckle, and began waving his chubby little arms in the air – trying his very best to ward Niall off. Niall gave up on appeasing him after the blue truck hit him square on the chest, and held Theo’s arms above his head with one hand while he swiftly unbuckled him.

Picking a squirming one-year old up was a trickier business than Niall had thought – eight month old Theo had had much less of the coordination necessary to wriggle out of his arms – but he was eventually pushing the door closed with his hip and letting Theo hit away at his neck to his heart’s content.

Harry followed along beside Niall, staring at the small child with obvious jealousy. Niall would let him handle Theo Duty next time, he decided. Then they’d see how much Harry wanted to hold him. “Niah! NiNiNi!” Theo screamed joyfully, and Niall grinned fondly down at the boy on his hip. Harry would probably want him more, though. Theo had a way of worming his way into everybody’s heart.

When they reached the door, Niall swapped Theo to his other hip, and took Harry’s free hand in his. He could hear Denise’s Ed Sheeran obsession loud and clear, no doubt playing in the kitchen to overpower Maura’s swearing when her recipe books got splashed with sauce and potato mash as they always did, every Christmas.

Harry squeezed his fingers gratefully. “Nervous.”

“Don’t be. Everyone’ll love you,” He had discarded his idea of Harry’s ripped jeans making a bad impression all the way back in Dublin, so he wasn’t lying. The Horan’s loved everybody. He opened the door and didn’t bother concealing the smile when the smell of home – vanilla, lavender, and something like new books – hit him. He wasn’t lying about the Ed Sheeran, either.

“Hello?!” He kicked his shoes off, and gestured for Harry to do the same. They didn’t get a chance to move out of the mudroom before Maura was appearing in the doorway to the lounge, dusted in flour and grinning.

“Niall! Oh, you’re here!” She pulled him in for a hug, causing him to drop Harry’s hand, and squish Theo between them. Realising this, Maura pulled back. “Did your brother fob his son off on you?” She took Theo from Niall and set him on the floor, pointing him in the direction of the living room. Greg shuffled apologetically behind Harry, and mumbled something about having Niall’s case.

She rolled her eyes and cuffed him good-naturedly around the head as he passed, following after his son. And then Maura noticed the tall, eclectically dressed boy standing beside her son. “Oh! This is-”

“Harry, yeah mam.” Niall smiled shyly and reached behind him to take Harry’s hand again.

“Hi, Mrs. Gallagher.” Harry shifted uncomfortably under the small woman’s stare, and Niall glanced fondly across at him – thankful Harry had taken notice of his pep talk on the plane.

Maura shook her head and grinned at him. “Just Maura, darling,” She turned back to look at Niall. “Get on into the warm, lads. It’s far too cold to be standing out here in no boots. And in ripped trousers, you must be freezing, love!” Harry shrugged. “Ah, well, get inside. Your father just put another log on the fire.”

Niall tugged Harry forward, thankful that most of his relatives were arriving in two days – just in time for Christmas – so they didn’t have to introduce Harry to his extended family _as well_ as his parents, Greg and Denise. They were more than enough for one day.

The living room was wonderfully warm, the log burner crackling away – Christmas tree lit up, and Theo’s toys spread all over the floor. Bobby was poking at the fire, and someone was singing unashamedly off-key from the kitchen – Denise.

“I don’t think the wood’s goin’ to escape, da.” Niall grinned as his father shot to his feet and strode over to wrap him in a hug that smelt like sawdust and coffee.

“’Bout time you came home, Niall.” Niall clung to him, because it _had_ been a long time, and he and his dad has always been close. When his parents split sixteen years ago, Niall had spent a few years living with Maura, but when the commute to school began to be a bit dreary and longwinded, he’d made the move to Bobby’s less rural house.

“Sorry, da. Got a bit caught up in school and that.” Niall could feel Harry begin to shift anxiously behind him. Because, while Niall had talked to Maura on the phone and she’d had absolutely no reaction whatsoever to his newly revealed sexuality, neither of them really knew Bobby’s reaction.

Bobby clapped Niall on the back and then pulled back. “And I suppose a boyfriend falls into the ‘all that’ category?” Harry’s shuffling in the background stopped immediately, and Niall knew without having to look that he’d frozen and his eyes were wide and he was biting his lip.

Niall wasn’t so keen on waiting to see if his dad would abandon ship and escape to the kitchen to talk to Denise and remind himself that one of his sons was straight, at least. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, da.” Bobby shook his head and looked over Niall’s shoulder to give Harry the once-over.

“You blimmin’ well should be sorry,” He grinned at Niall’s shocked expression. “There aren’t enough Christmas jumpers for Harry.” Harry let out a puff of breath right next to Niall’s neck, which meant he’d sidled closer to him while Bobby was scaring the living daylights out of them both and dragging out the ‘I’m upset my son is gay’ act for as long as he could.

“Mam!” Niall turned his head to yell into the kitchen where he could hear Maura shuffling baking trays around. “I t’ought we gave up the Christmas jumpers years ago!”

“We did! But your father and I were talking, and we decided that since you haven’t been home for the last t’ree Christmases, we’d reintroduce them!” The noise in the kitchen stopped momentarily as she poked her head around the wall between the living room and kitchen.

“It’s such a shame you didn’t tell us about him earlier, dear. We had the orders all delivered by the time you told us, and there aren’t any for Harry.” She looked so put out that Niall didn’t even roll his eyes at her insistence that stupid itchy knit jumpers were the best things you could get at Christmas.

Niall grabbed Harry’s hand and tugged him forward, picking his suitcase up from where Greg had left it against the coffee table. “We should probably go unpack,” Harry followed after Niall, silent and making a concerted effort to be less clumsy since he didn’t trip up the stairs.

“ _Sorry_ about that,” Niall announced once they were safely inside his bedroom and the door was closed. “They’re a bit mad.”

Harry leant his suitcase against the wardrobe doors and wrapped his arms around Niall. “They’re your family, and they missed you. I don’t mind – _not_ ,” He added when Niall started to protest, “not because I’m pretending to be your boyfriend, but because you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

Niall allowed himself to press his face into Harry’s shoulder and relax. For all that Harry had been nervous beforehand, Niall had been silently bricking it the whole journey. He’d come out to his family _and_ introduced them to a ‘boyfriend’ _and_ introduced them to his best friend.

It was so important that his parents liked Harry as his _best friend_ , because Niall never liked disappointing them, and bringing home someone they couldn’t stand would have killed him a little bit.

Harry smelled like the musk of his cologne, the soap he insisted was worth the extra 70 pence because it didn’t dry his skin out, and a cold morning. Niall closed his eyes against the comfort, and didn’t let himself think about the underlying scent that was pure _Harry_. They stayed like that – Niall clinging and Harry swaying slightly like one would if they were holding a sleeping baby – until a tap at the door broke them apart.

Maura walked in before they were fully out of each other’s space – Harry’s hand still firmly between the rise of Niall’s shoulder blades, and Niall’s hand still gripping Harry’s elbow – and she smiled softly.

“Your father t’inks you should sleep in different beds, but I can see that’s not goin’ to happen,” Niall noticed she was carrying a pillow, “so I brought you an extra pillow, Harry. Niall tends to steal all the bedding.”

Harry laughed fondly, and took the pillow from her. “He does. Thank you, Maura.” She nodded, and walked half out of the room.

“I’ll let you boys have some time alone, you’ve been travelling for five hours. Lunch is about twenty minutes away.” She closed the door after herself, and Niall gestured to the double bed pushed against the wall.

“Pick a side, t’en.”

Just to be cheeky, Harry placed his pillow right up against the wall, making sure it took up as little room as possible. “Since you’re such a violent sleeper, I’ll be taking all precautions to avoid being kicked onto the floor.”

“T’at happened _once_ ,” Niall lifted his suitcase onto the mattress. “You get the bottom two drawers if you’re going t’ be mean t’ me.”

“Fine with me,” Harry set his case beside Niall’s and unzipped it. “And I know you’ll let me use the wardrobe. You love this coat too much to see it wrinkled and squished in the bottom of a drawer.” He nodded his head once, and wiggled his eyebrows like the thought he’d won some sort of battle.

He hadn’t. “Just because I refuse t’ let Gemma waste her money on a coat getting t’rown in t’e bottom of a drawer.”

Niall: 2, Harry: 1.

Harry smiled slowly - the smile that crept up his cheekbones and tucked his bottom lip _just_ under his front teeth. “Your accent gets thicker when you’re around your parents. You used to get off the phone with them, and you’d come out talking like a proper Galway lad.”

A smile pulled at Niall’s lips, too. He had noticed the definition of his accent begin to slip away with his years in Manchester, but he was glad he hadn’t lost it. “We can go t’ Galway City if you want? Could leave tomorrow morning and be back by dinner.” Niall smiled at the thought, he wanted to show Harry Ireland like Harry had shown him England. Well, as much of England as he could on the student budget that controlled their lives.

Harry hesitated and Niall wondered if maybe this _was_ all a bit strange for him. Meeting his parents, and holding his hand, and fending off his nephew, and kissing him, and then on top of all that, taking a day trip to somewhere that had a love song written about it.

“But…your parents will want to spend time with you? I couldn’t take you away from them, I’ve got you all year ‘round.”

Niall shouldn’t have been worried about it all getting a bit much for Harry.

“They’ll manage for one day,” He nudged Harry’s arm. “The extended family will be here the day after next, and then we’ll have no time away from them all. If they complain I’ll just tell them I want a day where it’s just me and my boyfriend, and no Aunt Margaret asking us to kiss all the time.”

They laughed, and Harry tugged Niall back into a hug. “Thanks then, that’d be great. Now, let’s unpack and get downstairs before they think I’m holding you hostage.”

After lunch, Maura and Denise fully emerged from the kitchen – covered in flour and swearing about how, “ _Greg should have done the rhubarb crumble because neither of us can really cook._ ” Theo was handed back to his mother since all he wanted to do was throw his trucks at the boys and Denise was so _sure_ that he just needed a woman’s influence, and they all sat around the coffee table with the intention of playing Scrabble.

Niall rested his back against the couch and let Harry lean against his chest. Bobby knelt closest to the fire so he could ‘keep an eye on it’, but Niall knew it was really because he felt a bit out of place in his ex-wife’s house even though they’d been doing this joint Christmas thing since they split. Maura and Denise cooed over Theo and restrained him from knocking the board off the table, while Greg sat between his wife and Harry.

“You boys aren’t going to be cheating, are you? We’re playing as individuals, not teams.” Maura looked pointedly at Niall, and he leaned forward, one hand on Harry’s hip to stop him toppling over, to pick up the bag of letters.

“’Course not, mam. Completely clean game,” He made a show of closing his eyes, drawing a tile, and holding the bag out to Harry. “Cover your eyes and draw one to establish your place in the game.” Harry giggled into his shoulder at Niall’s ‘Announcer Voice’, and did as he was ordered.

The bag was passed around the table, and it was decided that the turn of play would go in alphabetical order. Bobby tried to swap his first place with Denise, who was quite content at being last to play. Niall and Harry got third and fourth, respectively, and Greg tried to hold back his delight at being placed directly after Harry.

As it transpired, after Maura gave Niall the perfect opportunity to connect B-A-S-T-A-R to the D of her R-O-A-D and gain a triple word score, the game wasn’t ‘completely clean’ at all. Greg followed Niall’s lead, and spelt a (very well played) C-U-N off Niall’s T and gained two double letter scores. Denise _tried_ her best to look unimpressed, she really did, but then spectacularly ruined the illusion when she proudly spelt N-Y-M-P-H-O across the middle of the board and picked up 16 points.

Bobby tried to reign it in with a modest I-R-O-N, and Maura contributed C-U-T-E, but Harry (who was doing a terrible job at subtly checking Niall’s tiles over his shoulder) pointed out the usefulness of the Q Niall had been hoping to swap with someone.

Play paused for a moment with Niall’s introduction of Q-U-E-E-R but before anyone could protest, he was quick to inform them that it was okay because he was, after all, a bit queer. He was gay. He had his boyfriend smiling proudly into his neck and placing an unwanted O into the bag and replacing it – very happily – with a P.

Maura and Bobby gave up and joined in, but it was a bit difficult seeing as, between the both of them, they had all of the X’s in the game, too many vowels, and not nearly enough consonants. Harry used his P on the (frankly dodgy) contraction of Niall’ name to change it into N-I-P. Theo threw his truck across the room and laughed, finally over smacking his loved ones with unusually sharp-for-children objects.

It was decided, after no one could top C-U-N-T-R-O-C-K-E-T, that they would all move on to Pictionary. Greg and Niall tried to warn everyone that that would go downhill even faster than Scrabble had, but nobody listened. Maura went to fetch the box and then they all got stuck into making ‘family fun’ as dirty as they conceivably could.

Pictionary and the accompanying drawings of unnecessary penises and flowers that looked like vaginas and one surprisingly relevant image of a rhino chatting up a lemur, took them until five o’clock in the evening. They stopped because the oven timer was going off on the second batch of rhubarb crumble Maura had put on while Harry was trying to get Niall to guess ‘mating call’, and everyone unanimously declared The Boyfriends the winners. Harry loved that, and wouldn’t stop smirking all through dinner.

When Niall came back from brushing his teeth after watching an omnibus of Moone Boy, Harry was under the duvet and wearing a thin white t-shirt that Niall knew was butter soft from wear. He kicked off his jeans and then swapped his shirt for the one of Harry’s he’d stolen a couple of months ago to sleep in. “Night, Haz.” He wriggled under the covers until he was lying flat on his back.

“G’night, Niall. Sleep well, boyfriend.” He tilted his head to place a soft kiss on Niall’s cheekbone, and then arranged himself as he always did when he and Niall shared a bed – curled up around his pillow with a section of duvet clutched tightly in his hands, and taking up as little room as possible.

Niall, while in denial – was aware of his violent sleeping habits and decided that Harry had the right idea if he wanted to avoid ending up a) on the floor, b) awake in the middle of the night with no blankets, or c) both. Besides, Niall always woke up with Harry sprawled half on top of him and with a limb either near or in his mouth. Last week it had been Harry’s elbow right beneath Niall’s bottom lip.

He always fell asleep quicker when he slept beside Harry, than he did when they confined themselves to their own beds after deciding that they’re becoming ‘too co-dependant’. Liam’s words, initially, not theirs. Tonight was no exception, Niall pressed his nose into the base of Harry’s neck and drifted off.

Theo woke them up, pushing the door open with a bang and tugging on the duvet until Niall leant down and picked him up. He lay against Niall’s chest, sucking happily on his own fingers, and nuzzling his forehead into Niall’s cheek.

He smelled clean and young, and Niall let himself lie there for a while, enjoying the warmth of Harry’s arm draped across his waist until Theo turned his head to look curiously at Harry. Niall realised that this – having a lie in with his nephew, and his best mate – could definitely be misconstrued if anyone else in the house came looking for Theo.

“Haz,” He moved Theo off his chest with a smile when the one year old started playing with his hair. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, where the sleep shirt had fallen away to expose the warm skin of his shoulder. It was very unfair, he decided, that Harry looked like a walking butterscotch sweet in the middle of fucking winter and Niall could barely manage to brown after a sunburn.

“We have to get up now, Harry,” He got a large, floppy hand in his face and a muffled grunt from somewhere beneath Harry’s hair. “It take an hour and a half to get to Galway, if you want to spend a decent day, you need to get up.”

“Up!” Theo provided helpfully, and the presence of a small human seemed to give Harry some motivation that Niall couldn’t provide. He removed his hand from Niall’s face and rolled over onto his back, taking most of the duvet with him.

One long leg was draped across both of Niall’s, and he made grabby hands for Theo. Niall shook his head in ridicule, but passed him over anyway. Theo sat down on Harry’s chest and then toppled over backwards, laughing hysterically and very narrowly avoiding Harry’s crotch.

“What do you think, little man?” He pulled the grinning boy up by his arms. “Do I need to get out of bed, or can I just stay here all day?”

Theo leaned down to press his cheek to Harry’s neck. “Up.”

Harry and Niall joined everybody except Greg at the breakfast table, because apparently his friend was having a crisis. He did it every year – forgot to buy gifts and then made up some excuse to go into town by himself. Maura handed Harry a plate of toast. “Did you sleep well, boys?”

Niall handed Harry a jar of Marmite that he’d been struggling with the lid of. He got a smirk and an eye roll in return, and contemplated smearing raspberry jam down the side of Harry’s face. Probably best not to; Maura would take Harry’s side and then it’d be Niall being shunned. It wasn’t fair. Harry bullied him.

While he was sulking, Harry ensured Maura that, ‘yes. They’d had a great sleep, thank you,’ and three pieces of Marmite-ed toast were set in front of him. Niall decided that maybe Harry wasn’t so bad.

“We’re going to Galway, mam. Could we borrow the car please?” Niall ripped at his crusts and folded them into his mouth in the way he knew annoyed Harry.

“Niall…” Harry whined, and raised his eyebrows pointedly. At Niall’s answering smirk, he sighed and leaned back in his seat. Denise was watching them with interest.

“I’m sorry lads, my car is in at the shop, but maybe your father’s…?” She glanced across at Bobby, who nodded. Niall grinned at Harry and thanked them. “Are you just taking a daytrip? Because Martin and Stephen are arriving tomorrow, and I t’ink you should be here for that.”

Harry tensed beside Niall, and the change was so slight that Niall only noticed because after three years of living with Harry, he was attuned to all his nuances. He made a note to ask Harry about it on the drive. “Yeah, mam, we’re just going for the day. Haz was talking about Galway last night, and I want to show him some more of Ireland.”

Denise cooed, and Maura’s face went soft. Bobby stood up to fetch his keys. “I would never do this for Greg, I hope you know that, Niall. Lad can’t drive for peanuts, so I trust you won’t bring it back with a ding in the back bumper like he did?”

Niall shot his father a disgusted look. “How could you even _think_ I would do something like that?”

He and Bobby continued to complain about Greg’s driving, and Harry turned to Denise. “Do they always talk about him like this?” She nodded. “How do you listen to it? How are you not defending him?”

She shook her head fondly at him. “Because it’s true, Harry, Greg would crash at 10km. And you have to pick your battles with these two.” Maura nodded in agreement, and Harry felt a little bit inadequate.

Here were these two women who knew their men so well, and there was Harry – masquerading as Niall’s boyfriend and wondering how Denise could restrain herself from strangling anyone who spoke a bad word against her husband. If Harry was in that position with Niall, he’d be jumping to his defence immediately.

He thought he was doing a pretty stellar job of acting like nothing was wrong, but as soon as Niall was finished reversing out of the driveway, he reached over and turned the music down. “Alright, H. Spill. What’s on your mind?”

Harry sighed and fiddled with the heating, delaying having to tell Niall about: _how much he felt like a fraud, and how stupid this idea was, and that he was kind of really nervous about meeting his cousins because everyone had been really nice to him so far and that had to end soon, right?_

“I… Everyone is really nice.” In his fidgeting, he managed to accidentally hit the button for the window, and they both scrambled to action to roll it back up and get away from the freezing cold wind rushing into the warm space they’d created.

Niall turned the heating up some more. “They are, yeah. I told you they’d love you.”

And…that was what Harry was afraid of. They loved him because as far as they knew, he was Niall’s boyfriend, but they’d have to ‘break up’ eventually. And once that happened, Harry wouldn’t be able to go back home with Niall as his best friend because everybody would hate him because as far as they knew, he’d be Niall’s ex-boyfriend.

Because he was conversationally stunted, he didn’t say any of that. “But your cousins might not like me being gay.”

Niall made a noise of thought, lips pursed and eyes focused on the road. “They know I’m gay, Harry. They aren’t homophobic. Deo and Martin have been my best friends since I was like…knee high. Like, obviously, you’re my _best_ best mate, but, you know what I mean?” Harry nodded reluctantly. “Why are you still frowning, then? Don’t want my boyfriend getting premature wrinkles.”

He said it jokingly enough, the way both of them did whenever they called each other ‘boyfriend’, but Harry winced. “I feel like a fraud.” There. He’d said it. Niall didn’t say anything, but he flicked the indicator on and pulled over at the edge of the road. He undid his seatbelt and reached across the gearshift to pull Harry’s hands into his.

“Please don’t feel like a fraud, H. You aren’t, I promise.” He couldn’t help but frown, because this wasn’t meant to be upsetting Harry. He was meant to be having fun, spending time with his best friend, and – admittedly – lying about being his boyfriend, but spending time with people instead of being alone for Christmas. It was meant to be fun.

“But we’re going to break up when we get home, and then your family will hate me because that’s what you do when someone breaks up with someone you love, and…I won’t be able to come back as your friend because they’ll only see me as the dick head who used to be your boyfriend.” Harry sniffed, ashamed at the tightening of his throat.

Niall shook his head and leant down to press a kiss to Harry’s knuckles. “That’s not going to happen. They won’t hate you, and if they do, which they won’t, I’ll tell them we were never actually together. We’ll work this out and you’ll be spending every single holiday with my family.”

He sounded so adamant that it would all work out, that Harry nodded and mustered a smile – it made him better, being in the face of Niall’s ceaseless optimism.

♥ ✈ ♥

Galway had pretty crap weather, actually. It’s beside the sea, and while there was no snow, there _was_ some pretty terrible sea fog, and the slight matter of one of the main roads being partially flooded because of what a local calmly referred to as ‘a high tide’.

Harry had pulled up the official Galway City website on his phone when they were about an hour away, and called out suggestions for what they could do. Horse riding had seemed like a nice idea – rugged up in five layers of clothing and ambling along peacefully – but when Niall had said so, Harry read the rest of the article and winced. Horse riding cost €66 _each_.

He kept looking, and they decided that spending €10 for an all-day ticket to a historical bus trip was worth it, and that they could bypass spending money on a guided walking tour, and just wander about by themselves for free. Niall had suggested just following the paying group at a distance, but Harry insisted that that was a form of stealing.

It was only 11:30 by the time they found another road to use and park beside the information centre to pay for their bus tickets. The woman behind the desk smiled at their linked hands, and advised them that the morning tours were always the quietest. After lunch was when all the tourists arrived, and then there was no space for privacy. Harry thanked her and turned to Niall. “Shall we have a late lunch, then?”

Niall agreed that that was the best plan, since tourists had a nasty habit of being really invasive… and they were two guys taking part in a rather ‘couple-y’ activity. He didn’t want crowds ruining their alone time, his family was bad enough.

The bus driver was a rather portly, balding man who reminded Niall of the Fat Controller. He said as much to Harry, head bent close to his ear as they climbed the stairs to get to the open top level of the bus. Harry swatted at him and nearly sent Niall falling up the stairs from where he’d been walking backwards so he could properly talk to Harry. They found a seat right in the middle of the top level – far enough back to get a good view, but close enough to the front that the wind didn’t attack them too much.

“If you look to your left, you’ll see The Spanish Arch, where river meets the sea. It was originally a 16th century bastion to protect merchant ships from looting…” The speakers crackled a bit, and Harry turned to Niall with a grin.

“Where the ocean meets the sky, I'll be sailing,” He sung quietly. “Isn’t that Scottish?” Niall rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder.

“Show some respect, Harold. The River Corrib is a _very_ serious matter. Protected Galway from raiders, din’it?” Niall decided he hated Harry a little bit when he pulled a beanie from his backpack and pulled it on. The wind chill up here had to be taking the temperature into the sub-zeroes.

He changed his mind a few moments later when Harry reached down and pulled out another one, and handed it to Niall. He grabbed it thankfully and shoved it on haphazardly, not caring what he looked like, just glad to have some relief from the cold. He was beginning to lose feeling in his ears.

Apparently, Harry did care about how he looked, and pushed Niall’s hands out of the way to fiddle with the rim of the hat – fingers brushing feather light against his forehead, and pushing bits of hair back under the hat.

The bus stopped to pick up an elderly couple, and Niall reached up to still Harry’s hands. “Am I presentable now, mother hen?” The couple stayed downstairs, and Niall pulled his coat tighter against the back of his neck.

Harry made a ridiculous squawking noise and folded his arms into wings. “You’re always presentable, baby.” He smirked, and then darted forward to lick Niall’s nose.

“What’d you do t’at for?” Niall wiped at his nose and frowned at his best mate.

The other boy shrugged. “I was going to bite it – you know, like a chicken – but I thought you wouldn’t be very impressed with that.” The driver announced that they were now passing the old prison where executions used to be carried out, and Niall nudged Harry.

“I’ll have you thrown in there if you don’t stop misbehaving.”

Harry tried to pout, but it ended in him choking back a laugh and nearly toppling off his seat when the bus stopped again. “I don’t think the Fat Controller is very suited for driving.” He whispered conspiratorially in Niall’s ear.

“Thought you said it was inconsiderate to call him that?” It was true, though. The driver _was_ rather terrible. A young family took a seat a few rows behind them – a girl who was maybe six or seven, her little brother in a baby carrier, and two rather frazzled looking parents. Harry nodded, and rested his head on top of Niall’s, sighing happily.

“This is nice, right? We haven’t had any proper time alone in ages.” They hadn’t. Yes,they lived together, but homework and work and paying the bills meant that the only _them time_ they got was around the apartment – talking about money and coursework and groceries. It didn’t count.

Niall shifted so he had his arm around Harry, holding him in place because this driver was _really_ terrible and Harry would fall off the top of a bus if there was even the remotest chance. The chances in this case weren’t as remote as usual. “Yeah, no small children interrupting us,” he huffed, and he really didn’t mean Theo.

“Are you insinuating that our best friends are three year olds?” Harry was exactly on Niall’s wavelength. That was part of the reason they were best friends – Niall laughed at something and while everyone else was working out what was so funny, Harry had come up with at least two punchlines to follow the initial joke.

The little girl kept whispering to her mother, and it was the kind of naïve whisper of a young child that wasn’t really a whisper at all. The wind kept them from hearing her words, though. Well, until Harry tucked his face into Niall’s neck. Niall was ready to turn around and give them a lecture on acceptance and human decency, but them he felt Harry pressing a smile into his skin.

“What you smiling at, Haz?” Niall pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, and Harry reached up to pull Niall closer to him with the sides of his beanie.

“Her dad said that boys could love boys as well as girls, and the wee girl said that she wants to be in love like us, one day.” He pressed their foreheads together, still smiling like he thought it was the best thing in the world. Niall couldn’t help but smile along, because Harry’s smiles were infectious. That, and the warm press of Harry’s against his was a welcome change from the wind.

“Do you think we should tell her?” He asked, looping both arms around Harry’s neck and keeping their faces pressed close.

“Tell her what?” Harry was going slightly cross-eyed trying to look at Niall, and he couldn’t help himself. He leant forward the slightest fraction, and pressed their lips together. Harry’s mouth was slightly chapped from the cold, but his lips were warm. He pulled back with a small smile.

“That we aren’t _really_ star-crossed lovers.”

Harry grinned at him and shook his head. “Don’t think she’d believe us after that.”

Niall agreed, and before he could do anything silly – like pull Harry into another kiss – the speakers crackled back into life. “This is the Claddagh area,” They pulled away from each other to see a grey, stony beach. “Throughout the centuries, the Claddagh people kept Galway City supplied with fish. You may know it as being the home of the Claddagh Ring, which is worn by people all over the world.”

Harry spun to look at Niall, eyes wide a pleading. “Can we please, Niall? Can we get rings?” He looked so desperate for a yes, and Niall knew that if he said no Harry would sulk for the rest of the day.

“They’re expensive…”

“We can get each other them for Christmas presents. I know you haven’t gotten me anything yet.” Harry pouted and blinked slowly up at him. The girl had started nattering on about princes and princesses in the background, and Niall sighed.

“Okay. We’ll go to a store in Mullingar. The prices here will be twice as high because of the tourists.”

They stayed on the bus for the duration of the eighty minute circuit, and only a few more people got on. Harry stayed snuggled up against Niall’s shoulder, and when a middle-aged couple climbed back down to the enclosed level of the bus after seeing Niall and Harry, Niall proceeded to cover Harry’s face with kisses. Just for the two bigots throwing up in their hats, Niall had said when Harry asked.

When they pulled up where they started, Harry grabbed Niall’s hand and rushed them downstairs quick enough to be able to pass the couple on their way off the bus. They thanked the driver, and managed to keep their laughter at the disgusted looks their hand-holding had garnered. Niall supposed they should be feeling put out because of the homophobic comments that followed them, but he told Harry that that would be letting them win.

Harry grinned and pulled Niall’s hips closer, hitching his leg over his hip and nuzzling into his neck. “Shall we go get some lunch, darling?” He asked loud enough for them to hear, and Niall caught on immediately.

He bit Harry’s ear and pulled out of the hug. “I think so, sweetums.” Harry wrapped an arm around his waist, and Niall let his right hand settle on Harry’s arse. They walked into the pub that Harry had been eyeing up ever since they arrived in Galway, still laughing and still hanging off each other.

The inside was a far cry from the miserable weather outside. A fire crackled in one corner of the bar, and tables absolutely filled the room. The barman shot them a friendly smile before turning to serve someone, which Niall was thankful for – they’d sort of forgotten to tone down the obnoxious gay couple vibe they were putting on for the couple on the bus.

“Do you want me to get you a pint?” Harry nodded and let go of Niall’s waist to pick up his hand.

“Basket of chips as well?” He asked quietly, and Niall smiled at him.

“Of course. We can get a pie or somethin’ from a bakery if you want anything later,” Niall held up two fingers to the barman. “Two pints of Guinness, please. And a basket of chips.” He was handed two frothing glasses of amber liquid, and motioned Harry over to a free table near the fire.

They sat across from each other, feet tangled beneath the table. While they waited for the food, Harry interested himself by reaching across the table and pulling at Niall’s beanie. He got a kick to the shin for his troubles, though, so he pulled back. The chips arrived and Harry fought Niall for the last one. They ended up eating half each, and then decided to visit the bakery one block over.

Walking around Galway hand-in-hand got a bit old by the time four o’clock struck and it begun to get darker, so they bundled into the car, heating turned up to bring the blood back to their fingers. The drive home consisted of Harry singing Galway Girl at the tops of his lungs, and after the second time through, Niall joined in, pretending not to enjoy screaming, “a _nd I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do, 'cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue”_ at the windshield wipers.

Once Harry had worn himself out, Niall turned the radio on and turned the heating up, because he knew how nervous Harry was about meeting Deo and Martin, and sleepy soft Harry didn’t overthink things quite as much. The DJ was being very cooperative with the entire playlist back to Mullingar – playing soft, quiet songs.

Harry’s head knocked against the window, and Niall made a concerted effort to drive as gently as he could so that Harry didn’t startle awake. He pulled up quietly in the driveway – warm yellow light filtering through the gaps in the curtains, the fire no doubt blazing. It was a few minutes past half past five, and Niall had no doubt that there was food in the oven and the jug already boiled and at least – he looked at the cars parked on the street – at least two cousins and one aunt.

“Harry,” Niall reached across the gearshift to shake his shoulder. “We’re home.” Harry snuffled, his quiet snores jolting to an end, and blinked sleepily out the window.

“D’ I fall asleep?” He mumbled, and then frowned and rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry.” Harry had a thing where he thought it was really one hundred percent necessary for him to stay awake with the driver for the entire journey. Something about manners, apparently. It never happened, since Harry could and would fall asleep anywhere, but he never accepted that.

Niall opened the door, wincing when the warm air of the car heaters gave way to the biting cold of his front yard. “Not a problem, Harry, like I keep telling you.” Harry climbed out of the car and somehow, miraculously, managed not to slip on ice. Niall locked the car and slipped his hand into Harry’s. “’S just Deo, Martin, and Aunt Margaret, I think,” When Harry’s hand squeezed his, Niall nudged Harry’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Harry. They’ll love you.”

Harry muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘that’s what I’m afraid of’, but they were already at the front door and apparently Maura had set a watch party because the door was swinging open and the smell of mince pies was rushing out.

“Niall!” Deo managed to completely disregard the sleepy boy hanging off Niall’s arm, and pulled him into a hug, dragging Niall’s hand out of Harry’s. “Long time, no see, man!” Niall laughed and slapped his back a bit, before he pulled back and grinned at Martin.

The other, smaller, beardless man stood laughing in the doorway and clapped Niall on the shoulder. “How’s it going, Nialler?” Niall nodded and mumbled something about University treating him well enough. Then he became too aware of Harry shuffling behind him, and he stepped back to nudge their shoulders together.

“In fact,” He put his arm around Harry, even though he had to stretch up a fair bit to get any proper purchase on his shoulders. “Harry here rather pulls me through. Wouldn’t h’ve survived without his cooking.” He felt Harry relax under his arm and rubbed his thumb in small circles over his shoulder blade.

Martin smiled at Harry. “Not to be a cliché, but food’s the way to our Niall’s heart, huh?” Harry smiled back – slightly more reserved than usual, but it was an improvement. Deo _finally_ looked up at Harry when he mumbled his agreement and nudged his head against Niall’s.

“He’s _yours_ then, is he?”

“Deo…” Niall shook his head at his cousin, and pulled Harry tighter against his hip.

“Sorry, I just…I mean, Niall. Really?” He raised his eyebrows in Harry’s direction and shook his head. “Holly was nice while she lasted, I guess.” He turned on his heel and walked back inside, leaving Martin staring open-mouthed after his brother.

He looked over to Niall and Harry with a frustrated blush. “I am _so_ sorry, Niall. Harry, you…you didn’t deserve that, mate. I’ll just…” He gestured into the house and sighed, “My brother is a prick.” Right then, Niall had to agree with him on that.

Dating Holly had been his last ditch attempt at denying his sexuality, the year before Niall left to England. He wasn’t proud of what he did, but she was sweet about it and it had been an amicable break-up. Deo had been one of the people to rub Niall’s back and tell him that the break up was for the best. Harry knew about Holly, of course he did, Niall told him everything.

He looked over to where Harry was standing pressed close to his side, Niall’s arm still around his shoulders, and felt suddenly very ready to punch his cousin. Harry was frowning at his feet – pigeon-toed like they always were when he was nervous – and he had his lip pulled between his teeth.

He always took it too far and made it bleed, and then he complained about it stinging every time he ate something for the next week, so Niall saved them all the hassle of a sulky Harry and reached over to brush his thumb across Harry’s mouth.

“Don’t take that to heart, Haz. He’s just…we talked about girls together when we were kids.” Niall hadn’t actually done much of the talking, just nodded and made noises of agreement and said that he ‘thought Saidhbh was nice’ when he’d been asked.

Harry nodded and pulled out from under Niall’s arm, only to shake his head and duck forward, burying his face in Niall’s chest. “It’s not…it isn’t your fault, Niall. But…am I still welcome?” He fisted his hands in the material over Niall’s back and he could feel the hot exhalation of breath under his chin.

“What are you on about, Harry? Of fucking course you’re welcome, are you mad? This isn’t his house, he’s the guest, not us, yeah?” Niall gripped Harry’s hips and pulled him backwards so he could meet his eyes. He bumped their noses together when Harry wouldn’t meet his eyes for longer than a few moments. “No, don’t look upset love. We’ll go inside and…we can avoid Deo for a bit, yeah? His mam’ll have his head on a platter.”

Harry’s frown deepened, but he nodded and grabbed for Niall’s hand. “Okay, but like…hold my hand?” As if Niall would leave him stranded in front of his family. He just smiled softly and raised their entwined fingers to his mouth to kiss the back of Harry’s hand.

Inside the house was exactly as warm as it looked, and smelt even better. Niall pulled the door closed behind them and shut his eyes briefly, letting Christmas pies and the smell of minted potatoes wash over him.

He toed off his shoes and watched as Harry did the same, and then he nodded and lead them into the lounge. Thankfully the room didn’t go quiet as soon as they walked in, as Niall knew Harry had been worried about. He had, too, if he was being honest.

His aunt Margaret was sitting next to Denise on the couch, bouncing Theo on her knee and cooing at him. Martin was standing with his back to the room in the entrance of the hallway, and Niall could see Deo over his shoulder. He threw the keys to Bobby who had just walked in with another log for the fire – seemed that’s _all_ his father ever did – and dropped Harry’s hand in favour of wrapping it around his trim waist.

The small woman – every inch Maura’s sister – on the sofa looked up and grinned at Niall. “Oh, Niall you’ve grown!” She handed Theo back to Denise and stood up to walk over to the boys standing in the middle of the room. “Is this…?”

Niall nodded and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Harry, yeah.” He slipped his hand under the hem of Harry’s shirt and left it there to calm him. He knew that skin-on-skin contact made Harry feel a little more comfortable in tense situations (many stressed out swotting sessions had taught him that) and if Niall was being honest, it calmed him down too.

Harry took Margaret’s outstretched hand and smiled tentatively. “It’s nice to meet you.” He said in that soft, slow cadence he had for people he’d just met.

Margaret smiled at him apologetically and gestured into the hallway. “I wish you could say the same about my son. Stephen will come around, boys,” She hugged Niall with one arm even though Harry was still attached to his side. “You know he’s not…homophobic or anything, don’t you?”

Niall shrugged, because it’s been three years and Deo had had a lot of opinions on girls when they’d both still lived in Ireland. For Harry’s benefit, mostly, Niall tucked her head under his chin. “Yeah.” She pulled away and appraised them once more.

“You fit well together, boys.” Niall wasn’t sure what to make of that, but Harry made a pleased noise under his breath so he didn’t think any further on it.

It was only when they were climbing into bed, freshly showered and bleary eyed from dinner and the sticky date pudding Margaret brought, that Niall fully processed what his aunt had said. It had technically only been two days since they’d started ‘dating’, but they had actually started acting more affectionate towards each other (more so than usual, anyway) two days before they even came to Mullingar.

Niall and Harry had always had a close friendship, had always been comfortable enough to climb into bed together when Niall was missing home, when Ethan sent Harry malicious texts, when they’d both flunked their exams.

The lads had a running joke that he and Harry were the old married couple of the group, arguing over bills and yelling at each other about who left their towel in the middle of the floor. Niall had never paid it much mind, brushed it off with a laugh and an overdramatic love bite on the side of Harry’s neck. Harry had done the same, smacked Niall’s arse and made snide comments about who took it and who gave it. They weren’t…

But now, with Harry curled up beside him, damp hair curling at his temples and his chest rising and falling with small puffs of breath, he wondered how it all must look to an outsider. Today, in Galway, with the wee girl on the bus; the middle-aged couple who turned up their noses in disgust; the ladies in the bakery who had given Harry his vanilla milkshake with two straws.

Niall could close his eyes and the soft, clean smell of soap mixed with the remnants of Harry’s aftershave made him think of home. Not here, with Maura and Bobby, not his childhood home. His home, as it was now, the tiny flat he shared with Harry, the flat they’d chosen because its size meant it didn’t cost a fortune to heat.

He realised that pretending to date Harry wasn’t as awkward or as awful as he had feared, sitting at the breakfast table in Manchester. It was like an extension of their friendship, something easy they had slipped into. _They fit well together_.

Niall left that thought in the sleep wearied corner of his mind and curled up at Harry’s back, fitting a hand over his waist even though he knew he’d probably end up kneeing Harry in the crotch and getting a smack in the morning. His last waking thought was that Harry smelt safe.

♥ ✈ ♥

Niall didn’t wake up again until just past eleven o’clock. He could feel the duvet bunched up against his back, and he burrowed backwards, enjoying the feeling of something holding him. The he realised he really was being held – an arm across his waist and a forehead pressing into his shoulder. He opened his eyes reluctantly to turn around and face Harry.

“G’morning, Harold.” He cleared his throat, voice rusty from sleep, and smiled when Harry wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“You _always_ deny that you’re the little spoon, but you _love_ it.” He tucked his top lip under his teeth and nibbled away on it. Niall was struck by the odd thought that Harry shouldn’t be doing that, because his lips were so nice and soft and if he kept chewing them, they wouldn’t be any longer. He shook that away in favour of defending himself against Harry’s wandering hands, now creeping down his waist to slip under the hem of his shirt.

“I’m not little spoon, Harry. That’s you, Mr. I Like Cuddles So Much I Purr.” He ignored the warmth of Harry’s hand rubbing circles into the soft skin just above his belly button, and twisted his arm around against the pillow to scratch at Harry’s head.

Proving his point perfectly, Harry closed his eyes and arched into the touch. “This proves nothing, Niall Horan. You caught me out and I demand a retrial.” He yawned and Niall flicked him on the forehead.

“Morning breath, you monster!” He hid his face in the pillow and tried to level his breathing when Harry pressed the full length of his body against his and pressed open mouthed kisses over every available inch of Niall’s face. They were both giggling messes – pillows on the floor and the duvet tangled at their feet – when someone knocked on the door.

“Is it safe to come in?” Martin. Harry rolled off Niall and moved to get out of bed, but Niall grabbed his elbow and tugged him down so he fell half against his chest.

“Come in!” He propped himself up against the headboard and hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he felt from their wrestling moments before. He didn’t particularly care if Marin thought they were having sex – they were boyfriends, for crying out loud – but he wasn’t very partial to his cousin thinking they’d had sex with the whole house awake, while in Niall’s childhood bedroom.

Martin stepped through the door, looking nervous and slightly uncomfortable. His eyes softened when he saw them cuddled on the bed, clothed and covered by blankets.

“I…um, wanted to apologise for what Deo said yesterday. He said that he’s embarrassed and wants to make it up to you,” Niall hadn’t forgiven or forgotten what Deo had said to them yesterday, and he was about to say as much to Martin, tell him that if his brother was so sorry, he should have the balls to say so himself. Martin continued talking. “He would have come up here himself but me mum told him to stay downstairs, ‘case he wasn’t welcome.”

Harry turned to look up at Niall, pressing his nose against his jaw line. “I didn’t cause trouble for him, did I?” He murmured, voice still slow and liquid smooth from sleep. Niall used the arm wrapped around Harry’s waist to pull him forward and around onto his lap.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. Deo caused trouble for himself, what did you do? Stand beside me and be lovely. You didn’t do anything.” Niall didn’t even have to pretend to pull out the soft words and the concerned glare. He wasn’t consciously portraying himself as Harry’s boyfriend anymore, it was natural. He looked back up at Martin. “We’ll speak to him when we’re dressed.”

Martin left the room in a hurry, wishing them good morning and then ducking into the hallway as if he didn’t quite trust them not to be pants-less under the covers. Harry tucked his face into Niall’s shoulder and pulled own the material of his shirt with his teeth so that he could press his lips against Niall’s chest.

He didn’t think about how he and Harry never did _this_ back in Manchester – never cuddled in bed and sucked love bites onto each other. Well…they did the last one, but only where people could see. Only as a joke. It never felt quite this intimate.

Harry pressed his forehead deeper into Niall’s chest and then huffed out a breath and pulled away. “Guess we have to get up, then.”

Niall sighed and swung his legs out of bed. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Harry. If he’s going to be a dick again, we’re walking out,” He pulled his top off and wrestled himself into a soft, long-sleeved shirt he was pretty sure had once belonged to Zayn. Harry was hopping around the room with both legs stuck in his skinny jeans and Niall didn’t even think before pushing him backwards onto the mattress. “Legs up.”

It was something that they’d been doing for years: Harry bought jeans that were too tight to pull on and too tight to wriggle out of, and Niall got roped into pulling them over his thighs. The lads had walked in on them one day, a few months ago – both boys giggling over the stubborn denim. Louis had been too busy laughing to say anything, but Zayn and Liam hadn’t stopped ribbing them about it for days.

With Niall’s help, Harry was dressed much sooner (and warmer) than he otherwise would have been, and they entered the kitchen just as Bobby had finished talking Deo by the looks of things. Harry, understandably, hung back until Niall gestured for him to join him in front of the kettle.

“What’s the deal, Stephen?” Niall never really called Deo by his given name unless he was really pissed off, and the older boy shifted awkwardly.

“I…want to apologise for what I said last night,” He bit at his thumb nail and Harry edged a little closer to Niall. He slipped his hand around his waist and knocked their shoulders together. “It was out of line, and I’m very sorry if I offended you. It truly wasn’t my intention,” Deo raised his head to meet Harry’s eyes. “I have no problem with you two-”

Niall cut him off, gripping Harry tighter to his side. “We’re not asking for your permission.”

“No I…that wasn’t what I meant. Harry, I….I am very sorry I was so rude to you and I know you were probably nervous about, well, meeting us – I would have been – and I just…I hope I haven’t made you feel uncomfortable.”

Once again, Niall spoke up. “It’s my mother’s house, Deo. Harry isn’t the guest here, so whether you’ve made him uncomfortable really isn’t the question. You should be lucky that Harry doesn’t ask you to leave,” He only stopped himself from threatening his cousin with eviction because Harry was slipping his hand under the hem of his shirt and tracing patterns that he knew were meant to stop him saying something stupid.

Niall took a deep breath and shook his head. “All I can say is that if you do one more thing to make me think you might be making Harry uncomfortable….” He blew out a sharp breath and shook his head.

Stephen breathed out a rush of relieved air – at least Niall was calling him Deo again. He nodded and smiled tentatively at Harry before ducking out of the kitchen. Niall looked over to see Harry looking down at him

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on him. He’s your cousin.” Harry frustrated Niall with his endless need to satisfy others over himself.

“And you’re my family, too. I’m not going to let him off easy for last night.” He nudged his forehead against Harry’s, and if he left it there a moment longer than necessary – breathing in the warmth of Harry and the smell of his cologne – then no one needed to know. Besides, Harry didn’t complain.

“Then…” Harry rested both hands around Niall’s waist. “When’s the rest of your family arriving?”

‘The Rest of Niall’s Family’ arrived just after lunch time. Six cousins, three aunts and four uncles, and his Nan all showed up at the same time, all bearing plates of food. Maura swept the dishes out of their arms and disappeared to store them in the kitchen, leaving Bobby and Greg to greet everyone and usher them out of the mudroom. Denise followed along behind them and swatted them before they tracked muddy boot prints through the house, while Theo, Niall and Harry claimed the couch for themselves.

Greg had let Harry wake Theo from his nap (a first, since he was ridiculously protective of his son and hadn’t even let _Niall_ hold him unsupervised for the first four weeks) and they hadn’t separated since. Harry was stupidly endeared with the teething rings and the tiny booties and the baby slobber that he wasn’t even making any effort to stop falling on his jumper.

Niall decided that even though seeing Harry with a child while he maintained the romantic pretence was doing strange things to his heart, it was probably a good thing Harry was acting like a proud dad. Even with the influx of family members jaded from their drive from other parts of the country, Harry wasn’t jittering with nerves. Niall could sacrifice his own sanity if it meant Harry was comfortable.

Eventually though, Harry had to hand Theo back to Denise and greet Niall’s family. He stood pigeon-toed and wide eyed, polite smile plastered across his face as he shook hands and hugged Niall’s Nan. The aunts all wanted to know how they’d met, the uncles wanted to know how committed they were, some of the cousin wanted to know how much sex they were having but Bobby shut that down immediately and moved the conversation towards Greg’s last minute Christmas shop the day before.

Niall tugged Harry’s head closer to his on the couch and whispered that he thought his dad was rather liking having a gay son. With Greg, he hadn’t really needed to worry about protecting his virtue; what was Denise going to do, really? But with Niall, Bobby could finally play the over-protective father with the shotgun, driving the boys away from his son. It was amusing to watch, quite frankly, even more so because it wasn’t actually necessary given the nature of the ‘relationship’.

Hearing everyone talking about Greg rushing around the shops buying shoes and jumpers and autobiographies of footballers reminded Niall of their conversation in Galway. Harry had seemed to have forgotten about wanting to buy Claddagh rings for each other, or at least wasn’t bringing it up, but his _face_ when he’d begged Niall…he had to see that again. Giving Harry a quick peck on his temple, Niall stood up and met Maura’s eyes for long enough that she followed him into the hallway.

“Mam?” Niall begun, scratching behind his ear anxiously. He knew she’d make a big deal of this, but talking to Bobby would be worse. “I haven’t really gotten Haz a gift, and I was…” He trailed off, because she was crossing her arms and frowning at him and he knew he’d be getting the lecture about procrastination that Greg got every holiday. “I want to get us rings.” He rushed out before she could say anything.

Maura – who always had something to say – stood in silence and stared at him. “Rings? Have…do his parents know about this? I’m happy for you Niall, but have you thought this through? Marriage is a-” And, yeah. Maybe Niall should have explained _what_ sort of rings.

“I’m not asking him to marry me, mam!” He didn’t add that they were practically already married, according to reputable sources. Read: Liam, Louis, and Zayn. “He really liked the idea of Claddaghs when we were in Galway, and I want to get us matching ones. I just…I don’t really want to go alone?” He rubbed his face and sighed with relief when Maura beamed at him.

“That’s a lovely idea, Niall! So romantic…and at Christmas time, too!” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Greg should be taking lessons from you.” Niall tried not to laugh, because it really wasn’t funny that Niall was in a fake relationship that was more romantic than the real one. Greg had asked Denise to marry him by mentioning that there was a reception hall near the local church that was cheap to hire out for weddings, and when Denise had told him they didn’t know anyone who was getting married he’d piped in with _“but I kind of just assumed we were.”_ Right proper Romeo his brother was.

“I suppose you’d like me to take you out this afternoon, then.”

Niall nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Too much trouble?” Maura rolled her eyes. “My son is going to buy his boyfriend a promise ring for Christmas. It certainly isn’t too much trouble.” She hugged him tight and Niall held her until she pulled away, frowning slightly. “What are we going to do with your boy, though? He can’t very well come with us.”

Niall already had this sorted, actually. “I thought he could stay here and help with Theo. He told Denise after breakfast that if she ever needed someone to look after him, he’d be more than happy, and she looked like she could kiss him. Thought her and Greg could go out this afternoon – away from the house and without Theo since they don’t get many chance to have alone time.”

Maura grinned at Niall and stretched upwards to kiss his cheek. “You are wonderful, Niall Horan.” He matched her grin and ducked down to hug her again. His mam was the most important, amazing woman he knew of. If he was wonderful, then he had no words at all for what she was.

♥ ✈ ♥

Shopping in Mullingar had always been an experience. Shopping in Mullingar the day before Christmas was something else entirely. Every store they passed contained someone who knew then back when and had decided it was their civil duty to try to talk to them through the window. Normally, Maura would stop and yell back and Niall would be left to either attempt to drag her away for fend for himself, but today she was on a mission and the most the ladies in the tailors got was a distracted wave.

Niall, being male and lacking a proper relationship since he wasn’t out in high school, had never been in the jewellers. And luckily, no one else was in the store at all. It was just him, his mother, and the bored clerk behind the desk. He moved past case after case of flashy engagement rings and necklaces and had nearly given up all hope, when Maura squeaked and waved him over to the far end of the store.

It was a reasonably small case in comparison to the rest in the room, but there were more than enough rings to choose from. Ranging from the traditional solid band of two hands holding a heart, to more modern interpretations, there were rings for men and women in silver and gold and platinum. Niall didn’t have to look for long before he found one that was perfect.

The ring was simple – just a slender silver band about half a centimetre wide that gave way to two hands holding a heart wearing a crown between them. He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to worry about the cost (€60 each), he knew that it would look perfect on Harry’s hand and that he could happily wear a matching one despite his dislike for rings.

“Can I help you?” Now that the man behind the counter realised he had actual customers, he’d perked up. Niall nodded and pointed through the case.

“Do you have two of this ring in store?” He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when the man nodded and turned to duck behind the counter.

“We sure do. Have you got the sizes?” Niall thanked his lucky stars he’d asked Maura’s help, without her he wouldn’t have even _thought_ to duck into the bedroom and nick one of Harry’s rings.

“I don’t but I do have a ring he wears?” The clerk didn’t even blink at the mention of a ‘he’ and looked happy enough to take the ring off Niall. “And, I figured, my actual finger is here, so I could…?”

The man gestured Niall forward to try on the differently sized, much cheaper rings in front of the cash register. “Try away. I’ll just go and get the right size for your partner.”

Niall found the right size immediately and grinned when he was the same as Harry. He wasn’t sure why it made him feel so pleased, but he was, and now there were two square white boxes in front of him, so he figured it didn’t really require immediate thought. His bank account did, however, and he mentally crossed everything he could while he waited to see whether his card would be accepted or not.

It was, and the machine blinked at him and then he was the owner of two little silver rings that were making his mother teary eyed. He rolled his eyes at her and thanked the clerk, gripping the bag tighter and bracing himself against the cold of the street. “It’s not that much of a big deal, mam. I’m not asking him to marry me.”

Maura slapped his shoulder and didn’t even look up at the women they’d passed on their way from the car to the jewellers. “I _know_ , but that doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal. My baby giving his boyfriend a ring.” She sounded like she was going to start crying any second, so Niall ushered her towards the car quicker than usual because Maura never cried.

“Mam, seriously, it’s just a ring.” He steered her away from the driver’s door because he hadn’t been joking about Greg’s driving – he truly did inherit it from their mother.

“ _Not_ just a ring, Niall. A Claddagh means-”

“I _know_. That your heart is taken.” Talking about this was making Niall question his choice of jewellery. Maybe he should have just gotten Harry a plain silver band and called it a day. His mother sniffled a bit and Niall just concentrated on not letting his nerves run him off the road.

Back at home, Niall snuck into his bedroom before Harry could look up from where he was pushing cars around the carpet with Theo, returned Harry’s ring to its original place on the window sill, and stored the new rings at the bottom of his suitcase. This was a surprise for Harry, and he would not have a snooping one year old (or twenty one year old, for that matter) ruining it.

He needn’t have worried about sneaking around Harry, because even when he physically crept up behind him where he was sat on the floor playing with Theo and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, Harry didn’t take any notice of him. Apparently, a baby was all it took to make Harry forget three years of friendship and five days of platonic, totally-just-for-realistic-effect kissing. Niall crouched down beside Harry and got one of Theo’s trucks in his stomach for his trouble. He supposed Theo would make him forget about his best friend, too.

Dinner was to be a simpler affair than Christmas lunch would be, but that wasn’t saying much. There were still multiple casseroles to make, a couple of desserts (since apparently the uncles decided they needed to bring whiskey cake and a Bailey’s cheesecake in addition to Maura’s apple cakes and plum pudding) to be heated, and the chicken to cook.

Niall kissed Harry’s cheekbone and left him on the floor with Theo, and then went to join Maura, Denise, and Margaret in the kitchen. They were staring dubiously into a casserole dish when he walked in, and it looked like they had been for a while, but his mum looked up when he chapped on the doorframe.

“Do you lot need a hand?” He joined Denise and his aunt over the stove. “What are we looking at?” It _looked_ like very overdue milk. He hoped it wasn’t, but with his family, he never knew.

Denise pulled him out of his gradual fall into insanity though. “It’s meant to be leek and potato soup.” She pulled a face at the gloop in the pot and turned away to get the pepper shaker. “Maybe some more potato? Or we could add flour?” And, no soup should have flour added to it, but Maura and Margaret actually perked up at the suggestion, so Niall stepped in.

“I really don’t think that we need two casseroles, three desserts, chicken, roast potatoes, carrots, mushy peas, a rice salad, _and_ soup. Just biff it and be done with it.” To his dismay, his mother and Margaret looked reluctantly at the soup as if they still wanted to save it, but Denise wrote herself into Niall’s Book of Favourite People, and nodded along with him.

“I agree, let’s just get rid of it. No one wants flour in their soup.”

 _Exactly!_ Niall shouted in his head, and happily took on the job of walking the casserole dish into the back garden and scooping it into the compost bin with hands that were really making him regret not wearing gloves. When he came back in, his Nan had joined the women in the kitchen and was chopping carrots faster than he actually thought was possible. For such a small, fragile looking woman she was rather fierce.

“Hey, Nan.” He smiled at her back and she whirled around to face him, still holding the knife.

“Niall James! When were you planning on coming back to see us?” Maura gently took the knife from her mother, and she carried on. “I hear from your mam that you’re only here because you’ve got yourself a boy!” She slapped his shoulder lightly and he winced at her words.

“I was coming home before we arranged for Harry to come with me. I _was_ coming home, wasn’t I, mam?” Niall looked hopefully at Maura and she nodded. His Nan softened her glare and tugged Niall towards her. He stooped over to hug her properly and she rubbed his back.

“Nice boy, your Harry.” When he pulled back, Niall was blushing because it was kind of nice hearing that his family liked Harry as much as he did…even if they thought their relationship was more than it was.

When Margaret had ushered her out of the kitchen because once she was done chopping the vegetables for the Dublin Coddle, she’d just been watching over Maura’s shoulder and driving her mad. His aunt didn’t return, so Niall took her place and found himself stuffing the chicken with lemon and bread crumbs and rosemary. Harry wandered in just as Niall was tying its legs together, looking for beer to offer the uncles and cousins.

He draped himself along the line of Niall’s back and pressed his mouth close to his ear, sending shivers down Niall’s back. “Didn’t know you were into bondage, babe.” Right, thanks Harry, thank you very fucking much. Work on your whispering skills, please. Niall gritted his teeth and prayed Denise – who was standing dangerously close to them – hadn’t heard.

She hadn’t, but Maura had taken offence to an extra person in her kitchen. She pushed Harry away, placing a carton of beer in his arms and pointing him out of the kitchen. “Not being rude, Harry, but this kitchen is small enough with just us three in it. If you could be a dear and tell everyone to stay well away until it’s time to make the gravy, that would be lovely.”

Harry nodded and smiled and blew Niall a kiss that he didn’t know what to do with, and disappeared out of the kitchen. It was clear that some of his family had already cracked open the bottles of wine and cider they’d brought with them judging by the cheers that met Harry’s re-entry to the living room. Then again, a pint never went amiss in the Horan family, so it was highly likely all of them were sober.

Eventually, they got the Dublin coddle in the oven, along with the steak casserole someone had brought, and the chicken and the roast potatoes. It took a lot of rearranging of shelves and dishes, and a lot of swearing, but between the three of them they managed to fit it all in the oven.

They retired to the living room while they waited for it all to cook, had a beer, argued over footie teams, and generally just talked over each other, until Maura and Denise returned to the kitchen. Niall would have followed them, but he had strict instructions to remain seated. He did find it a little unfair that Bobby was allowed to stand up and follow them, but the chicken need carving and he was the _best_ at making the gravy.

With additional room on the couch, Harry cuddled closer to him and rested his head on Niall’s shoulder, sighing happily. “How come you never cook at home? You look good in the kitchen.” Aoife clearly overheard, and smirked at her brother. That started the circle of laughs and all-knowing side eyes passing around the room, and Niall just shrugged.

“Maybe it’s because you never let me, _and_ ,” He added before anyone interrupted. “I don’t really have a chance to show off when our budget doesn’t allow for much more than mac and cheese.” Harry groaned in agreement, because while it was a slight exaggeration, last year’s Christmas dinner in the Styles-Horan flat was definitely not the potato and beef casserole in the oven right now.

“I’ve been wondering that, actually,” Niall looked up to raise his eyebrows questioningly at his aunt Margaret. She shifted in her seat. “Well, you can’t make much money and you’ve both got fairly hefty course fees, I imagine?” Harry sagged further against Niall’s side because they were forever complaining about how much their classes cost. “How do you make ends meet?”

Niall was going to say that they didn’t, that they survived by stealing from the weak, but Harry got in before him. “It’s like living an episode of _Grand Designs_. Except without the million pound budget.” It was, really. _Grand Designs_ was their Thursday night show and they didn’t care anywhere near as much about the houses as they did about the _ridiculous_ budgets.. The Katies groaned to themselves, and one of the uncles shot them a look telling them to shut up.

Niall decided that he’d get Harry back for the comment to Greg the day they arrived, about Niall being the one to get pregnant. “Yeah. Harry here always takes us over budget, so I reckon he’s the wife in this situation.”

“Oh, the one who convinces her husband that they really do need to pay 500 quid for a lamp. I hate those women,” Denise had just walked into the room with a plate of apple sauce for Theo. “No offense, Harry.” She was getting a chapter to herself _and_ a dedication in his Book of Favourite People.

Harry shifted against Niall and pressed the tips of his fingers into Niall’s thigh. “That’d make you the whipped one, then wouldn’t it, Niall?”

Apparently, Maura had abandoned Bobby in the kitchen, because she crossed her arms and stole some of her brother’s wine. “Niall. Stop insulting your boyfriend, and move your feet off the coffee table.”

“He’s always got his feet on the table at home, Maura. So I wouldn’t hold out any hope.” Niall thought Harry was meant to be being his boyfriend. He thought that meant he was meant to _support_ him. He’d have to bring it up when they were in bed. Harry was always more agreeable in bed.

Maura looked delightedly at Harry. “And you thought I wouldn’t like him, Niall! Harry, darling, you can stay around as long as you like.”

Harry preened at that, and Niall pushed him off his shoulder. “I see I’ve been replaced, I’ll just go help dad with carving the chicken, shall I?” He exited the lounge to the laughs of his entire family.

He would say he was regretting bringing Harry home with him, except for the fact that he really, really wasn’t. It was nice, having him with him in circumstances where they didn’t have to schedule times to sit down and discuss how to pay the utilities bill. Made Niall more certain that they weren’t just friends out of convenience.

Dinner passed by without much of a fuss – Theo threw a fuss because no one had thought to give him a Christmas cracker, and tipped a plate of peas off the table, but that was about it. About halfway through desert, Harry froze up and Niall was _this_ close to tugging him out of the room and protecting him from whatever silly thought he’d blown out of proportion, but he ducked his head closer to Niall’s and informed him they’d forgotten to text Louis happy birthday.

As soon as they were excused – Niall’s uncles refused to let him wash up – Harry and Niall all but ran to their room and fell over each other in their scramble for their phones. It was eight thirty at night; Louis would be pissed.

“I’m calling him first!” Niall unearthed his phone from the duvet just as Harry picked his out of his suitcase.

“No,” He gripped Niall’s ankles and sent him tumbling face first into the mattress. “He’s my best mate. _I_ get to call him first.” Harry was already dialling and Niall abandoned the lock code of his own phone, planning to just steal the phone off Harry once Louis answered.

The plan _nearly_ worked, too, what with Harry sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed – phone pressed to his ear, smug grin on his face. As soon as Niall heard the dial tone end, and Louis’ clipped voice on the other end, he threw himself at Harry and sent them both tumbling to the floor.

“Louis! Mate! Happy birthday!” Niall pressed his face right up against Harry’s and laughed when he made a startles squawking noise at the kidnapping of his conversation. “We wanted to say hello together, but Harry got us knocked off the bed.”

“That was you!” Harry whined, sitting up and holding the phone out of Niall’s reach. “Lou, he’s lying. Didn’t even _want_ to call you, and then landed on top of me on the ground.” Which…that was a blatant lie, Harry Styles.

Louis stopped Niall from jumping Harry again. “I don’t want to know about what you two get up to in bed, I don’t care. You both owe me for not only failing to contact me earlier in the day, but for interrupting my date.” He hung up before they could protest, and Harry stopped holding himself up on his elbows – just let his breath out in a whoosh when Niall landed against his chest.

“I didn’t want to call him, huh?”

“He thinks we’re fucking.” Harry stared blankly past Niall’s shoulder, and he rolled off him.

“Harry, he was joking.” Niall was a bit confused, actually. The boys always teased them about being especially kinky in bed. It was never actually _serious_. Harry knew that.

Harry stood up, straightened his jumper and brushed his hands over his bum. “Was he? Because I don’t think he’s exactly _convinced_ that this is all fake. He was…I dunno, Niall. Why are you so _calm_ about this?! We kissed – actually, properly kissed – and we weren’t drunk, and I’ve met your family, and you let me spoon you this morning, and I babysat your _nephew_ this afternoon!”

Niall got to his feet, too, refusing to sit at let Harry accuse him like it was all _his_ fault what Louis thought. “You agreed to it all! In fact,” He uncrossed his arms and focused on lowering his voice so his family just down the hall didn’t hear. “You were the one who _brought it up_! You didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. I wasn’t even going to…”

Niall waved his hands in the air trying to find some way to express to Harry what was going on. “I wasn’t going to take you along, was going to think up some way to convince you to stay in England. Because I _knew_ doing this would be a mistake!”

Harry was folding and unfolding his arms, biting on his bottom lip and glaring at Niall. “Then why did you do it!?” He glanced guiltily at the door, like he expected someone to burst in and demand to know what was going on.

“Because I wanted to know that we weren’t just mates because it was convenient to live with someone who helped pay the bills, alright! Is that what you want to hear?!” Niall _really_ hadn’t meant to say that. He really, really hadn’t. Harry wasn’t meant to find out about that.

Niall was out the door and pressing his back against the wood before Harry could wipe the blank look off his face, and he tipped his head back – catching his breath and attempting to appear as though he wasn’t on the edge of crying. When there was no movement from inside the room, Niall inhaled deeply and re-entered the living room.

One of the Katies looked up at him and held out a glass of sherry. “C’mon, Niall. I know it tastes terrible, but it’s Christmas Eve!” She pointed to the flashing reindeer ears on her head to emphasise the point and Niall took the glass without protest. It was alcohol, he wasn’t about to turn it down.

He sat down beside her, asked about her nursing class and her boyfriend, and tried his best not to think about Harry in his bedroom down the hallway. Of course, that could only last so long because Bobby sat down across from Niall and raised his eyebrows at Katie. “Harry not with you?” Niall tensed up but quickly realised that Katie was pressed right up against his shoulder and she could probably feel it.

“Nah, he was…think he’s feeling a bit poorly.” Niall finished his sherry and timed it perfectly with Aoife’s alcohol run to the kitchen. “Any beer, Ef?” She rolled her eyes at him but took his empty glass. Bobby had moved on to listening to his brother go on about the lack of work for tradesmen around Christmas time, but Niall didn’t really have a chance to breathe, because the other Katie was clambering onto the armrest next to him.

“You two up for Christmas karaoke?” She grinned over her shoulder at her brother who was shaking his head desperately at them. Niall looked to the Katie sitting on the sofa beside him and grinned. Sure, Harry was being stubborn and ridiculous and really confusing Niall, but he would _never_ pass up Christmas karaoke.

“Sure thing, Kate. Baggsie Uncle Colin!” Everyone groaned – the Katies because everyone knew Colin got so into _Last Christmas_ that there was no other option but to award him the prize of a bottle of whiskey, and Robert because he _really didn’t like Christmas karaoke but he had no choice since it was a family thing_.

Bobby stood up to help them rearrange the furniture, and then everyone crowded onto the sofa and surrounding chairs, and then made his excuses to not participate. Maura and Margaret weren’t having that, and by the seventh song, had convinced (blackmailed) him into performing with Robert.

Everyone was laughing because they really picked the worse two people to team up, given that neither of them wanted to be involved, but by the second chorus and the third glass of Bailey’s each, the two men got so into _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ that they nearly knocked the TV over.

Niall and Colin went next, but by unanimous family vote, it was decided that Bobby and Robert (The Two Bobs) as they’d taken to calling themselves were the winners. Once a few other people had embarrassed themselves, Scrabble was suggested and everyone agreed – most slightly drunk on the bottles of sherry, brandy, and Bailey’s doing the rounds – but Niall excused himself, saying he needed to check on Harry.

It wasn’t technically a lie. They still had four days before their flight back home left Dublin, and Niall needed to patch things up with Harry at least enough so that they could get through Christmas and Boxing Day. That, and Scrabble brought back too many memories of the happy game night the day they’d arrived in Mullingar.

Maura hugged him tightly, patted his back and told him all would be well, as if she knew that maybe Harry wasn’t actually ill. Greg and Denise promised they’d keep Theo out of their room Christmas morning, let them sleep in. After he’d said his goodnight’s to everyone he went and sat in the bathroom for a while, not quite ready to face Harry.

He didn’t know what had come over him. He and Harry had had fights before. Tons of times. Over bills, over buying the wrong sort of milk, over Harry bringing a guy home and not telling Niall, over Niall getting drunk and banging around noisily when Harry needed to sleep for his exam the next day, over who left an empty loo roll in the bathroom… They fought, but they always made up afterwards. Niall would storm out and Harry would follow after him, insisting that it was bad to go to sleep without making up.

Niall climbed into the bathtub and lay down – something he’d been doing since he was a kid, and crying because every other kid had a mam and a da who lived together. He reckoned Liam was right when he mocked their shared car, reckoned Zayn was justified in painting their belongings with variations of ‘Just Married’. They _did_ act like a couple.

But, Louis was way off mark. They weren’t shagging (obviously), they weren’t a couple and Harry was perfectly content bringing lads back to the flat and seeing them out the door after and awkward breakfast. Niall was fine with that, but he wasn’t…it hurt that Harry had been so obviously averse to the idea that they might ever have sex.

He didn’t think it would be that bad, actually, and he wished he could tell Harry that. Tell him that he sometimes felt jealous of Ethan for having the ability to break Harry’s heart. It was an awful, horrible thing to think, but Niall had never been good at keeping feelings out of things.

He first realised that he like guys, not girls, when he developed a massive crush on his mate Eoghan and started imagining them showing up at the school formal together. Of course, that never happened, Eoghan didn’t even _go_ , and Niall got over him, and Eoghan ended up being the first person Niall told.

Before Harry, he was the only person Niall had ever told. With a sigh, Niall pulled himself out of the bathtub, ran a hand through his hair in the shower door – convincing himself he didn’t care what Harry saw when he looked at him – and walked to the door of his bedroom. It shouldn’t be so hard, knocking. After all, it _was_ Niall’s bedroom, not Harry’s, but…. He gave up on knocking and just opened to door slowly, scared of what was going to meet him.

He needn’t have worried. Harry was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the bed frame, head pillowed on his arms, looking miserable. He looked up when Niall closed the door.

“I’m sorry,” Niall started to shake his head and tell Harry that, _no. He didn’t need to say sorry. That they’d get through the rest of the week and go back to Manchester and continue to coexist because it was easier to pay the bills that way_.

Harry knew him too well. “No, Niall, _I’m sorry_. I had no right to blame this on you. I know it was my idea, and you wouldn’t have done this if you had any other choice. You can’t help what Louis thinks any more than I can, and I’m _sorry_.” His voice was strained with barely concealed tears, and he looked so small sitting on Niall’s bedroom floor.

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t really mean the thing about us living together because it was conve-” Harry cut him off.

“You did. And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, Niall…” He trailed off and returned his head to the crook of his arms. Niall crouched down beside him and wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“You didn’t make me feel that way, Haz. It was just my anxiety talking, because…” He rested his forehead against the top of Harry’s head and took a deep breath, because he’d never told anyone this. “I never had friends that were there for _me_ , you know?” Harry shifted underneath him, and Niall let him move so their noses were pressed together.

“I…I had loads of mates, sure, but only…only Eoghan and Darragh were properly my friends. Everyone else hung out with me because I’d been to the footie matches in England and they wanted to know about the grounds, or…or I was getting the best marks in History and they wanted to copy my homework. Or, because Darragh was always hanging out with me and they thought he was cool,” Niall felt Harry’s hands squeeze comfortingly at his waist, and he sighed. “But I know you’re not like that. I know we’re proper mates.”

Harry seemed to be waiting until he was sure Niall had finished speaking, and right then, Niall could have kissed him. Because Harry knew that Niall found it hard to open up, and that he needed to be given the chance to get it all out or he’d clam up again. “Best mates. You’re my _best_ friend, Niall.”

Harry was using that bloody _earnest_ voice he spoke in when he wanted someone to properly listen to him, and Niall suddenly felt choked up. Because, Harry was so bloody brilliant, and he was all Niall’s. He was Niall’s best friend and they loved each other and Niall promised himself he’d never be an Ethan. He vowed there and then to make sure he never broke Harry’s heart, no matter what he had to sacrifice himself.

“Love you, Haz.” Niall let Harry settle him between his legs, arranging their limbs so that Niall’s back was pressed to Harry’s chest and Harry’s arms were wrapped securely around him.

“Love you too, Ni’.”

♥ ✈ ♥

Niall woke up somewhere in the early hours of the morning, desperate for a wee. He went to roll out of bed, and was disorientated when he found himself sat on the floor with a pair of arms wrapped around him. After blinking in confusion for a few seconds, he realised that he and Harry had gone to sleep wrapped around each other on the floor of his bedroom.

Trying his best not to disturb Harry, Niall unwrapped himself from the younger boy’s arms, and left to go to the bathroom. He smiled when he looked down the hall and saw a row of fairy lights had been placed along the fireplace, illuminating where a pint and a mince pie had been sat – especially for Santa.

When he returned to the bedroom, Niall slipped his arms under Harry’s legs and around his shoulders and lifted him into bed, holding his breath and hoping not to wake him. Of course, just as he’d straightened up and had all of Harry’s weight in his arms, the boy blinked up at Niall and his snuffling snores stopped.

“Sorry, H. You fell asleep on the floor. Your back will hurt in the morning if I don’t shift you.” Niall bit his lip to keep from smiling fondly when Harry simply nodded and closed his eyes, letting Niall tuck him up in bed with a content smile on his sleep-soft mouth.

Harry murmured something that might have been an attempt at a thank you, and burrowed into the pillows. He was asleep again before Niall had climbed in beside him and pulled up the duvet. It was a close thing, but Niall avoided leaning across the pillow and pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. Instead, he pulled the covers tighter against his chin and fell asleep curled up with his back pressed to Harry’s.

They woke up together, this time, to thumping feet down the hallway and the clattering of cutlery. Niall realised he’d turned over somewhere between 2am and 11 o’clock, and that his leg was now thrown over Harry’s hip. He jerked away and ended up taking what remained of the covers with him – Harry wasn’t wrong. Niall did hog the blankets.

“Morning.” Harry smirked at him, smile slow and thick like treacle and voice not much better. It should be illegal to sound like that, Niall thought.

“Mornin’,” He replied, rubbing the crust of sleep from his eyes and flopping back against the pillows. “Ready to face Christmas with the Horans?” He put on his best announcer voice, hoping it steered Harry away from the uncertainty in his voice that had stuck around from their argument the night before.

“Was ready four days ago.” Harry noticed. Of _course_ Harry noticed. Niall just nodded and climbed out of bed, disentangling himself from the bed sheets, and taking his Christmas jumper from the wardrobe with a sigh.

“Can’t believe mam still t’inks these are a good idea.” He removed his shirt and pulled the jersey on. For all their faults, the jumpers his parents ordered sure as hell weren’t itchy.

“Looking good there, Niall. Might have to watch out, all the boys will be jumping you. Get it? Jumper, jumped...” Harry smirked and managed to get into his jeans by himself this morning. Which Niall was _not_ disappointed over – it was a good thing, Harry shouldn’t need Niall’s help to put his trousers on.

“I do get it, yes you idiot. And I don’t want all the boys, do I?” He ran a hand through his hair in the little mirror above the duchess, and picked some lint off his own jeans.

“Suppose not,” Harry was smiling again, the private half smile he only brought out around people he knew. Niall had never known how to cope with that smile. “It wouldn’t do to have your boyfriend jealous on Christmas after all.” He finished buttoning his shirt and popped the collar, grinning like he knew exactly how much of a prat that made him look.

Before Niall could entertain any ideas of smoothing Harry’s shirt out because they didn’t own an iron, he turned his back on Harry and walked out of the bedroom, stopping to check that Harry was following before entering the living room.

They may have apologised for their fight last night, may have fallen asleep pliant and happy, but the words they’d half-yelled at each other stuck to the insides of Niall’s ears.

 _Maybe Harry really_ did _blame Niall for forcing him into something he didn’t want to do. He’d said before they left to Galway that he felt like a fraud. Harry hated being anything but honest. Maybe Niall was forcing him into a lie._

Maura cut those thoughts off by wrapping Niall in a big, warm, floury hug and then pulling back to let Greg dump a small rectangular box in his arms and then throw a more lumpy parcel at Harry. “Gifts from Theo. Speaking of,” He looked frazzled. “Where is the tyke?” Maura pointed in the direction of the back porch and Greg swore under his breath. “I _told_ Katie not to let him near the wood basket.”

Harry was poking at the shoddily wrapped bundle in his arms, and Niall grinned at him. “Open it, then!” He was already peeling off the sticky tape of his own present, knowing it was a box of chocolates but putting on a face of surprise just in case Theo was near enough to see or old enough to understand. He looked up from inspecting the flavours of his Roses™ chocolates just in time to see Harry pull a horrid, beige and burgundy jumper out of the mess of wrapping paper. “Is that…” He turned to Maura.

“It’s your jumper from four years back. Found it in your wardrobe and it’s only been worn once so I figured…why let Harry feel left out!” She grinned like it was the best idea she’d had in her life. “Of course, Harry’ll be getting other gifts – this one’s just from Theo.”

Harry, who had been mirroring Maura’s pleased expression about the jumper, looked up in shock. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Maura!” He shook his head but Maura cut off any further protests.

“Well, we’ve bought it all, now. Can’t return any of it, so you’ll just have to accept it.” That was the perfect thing to say to get Harry to quit complaining, and Niall wasn’t sure how she knew it. He, however wasn’t complaining – Harry deserved some gifts for coming all this way as a favour to him. Right now, though, he was more interested in badgering Harry about the happiness he was clearly feeling in relation to the _awful_ jumper.

By the time the aunts were calling everyone to the dining table – Christmas lunch ready, as usual, at two o’clock – Niall had forced a confession out of Harry. _Apparently_ , his family had never done jumpers at Christmas and he was quite happy to have finally gotten on board with the tradition. Niall insisted that he’d gotten the worst jumper of the lot – beige and burgundy and with a lopsided reindeer sporting a bright orange pompom as a nose – but Harry didn’t care in the slightest. He sat around the table wearing a stupid knitted monstrosity just as everyone else was, and grinned from ear to ear.

He didn’t stop smiling until after lunch was eaten, and the uncles had dragged some of their children into the kitchen to wash up. Since Niall and Harry had ‘helped out _so_ much yesterday’ according to Maura, they were in charge of keeping an eye on Theo and making sure everyone’s drinks were filled.

At five, the dishes were done, Theo was away having a nap, and everyone was gathered around the Christmas tree. Niall handed out his presents to Maura, Bobby, Greg and Denise and Theo, and his Nan with a slightly embarrassed smile – knowing that his budget had made sure his gifts paled in comparison to everyone else’s.

Of course, Maura made a fuss when she unwrapped a new necklace, Bobby looked near to refusing the Jamie Oliver knife Niall had sought out especially, his Nan had loved the gardening voucher she’d gotten, and Greg and Denise had gone all gooey eyed over the little footie kit Niall had gotten Theo and had leant over Maura to kiss his cheek when they unwrapped their gift card to the movie theatre, but he knew that the presents weren’t really as amazing as they were making out. He said as much, but Bobby went all teary eyed and promised that just having him at home was a gift enough.

Harry got the new James Bond film and a petrol voucher from Bobby and Maura, and Greg and Denise gave him ‘enough cash to replace those holey jeans’. Everyone gave Niall some form of money since they apparently all knew how broke he was. After the gift exchange, someone turned up the volume of the Michael Bublè and handed around glasses of whiskey, and everyone forgot about the sleeping boy a few rooms down until he started screaming.

Denise stood to get up but one of the Katies assured her she’d get him, and she sank back down onto the couch with a sigh of relief, holding her glass out for a refill. Harry snuggled up against Niall, and he pretended that he wasn’t resting his head against Harry’s so he could breathe in his shampoo. He absolutely did _not_ fall asleep to the rise and fall of Harry’s breathing, did not let himself drift off curled up against the warmth of Harry.

What Niall _did_ do was wake up in time to realise that dinner was, quite literally, a piece of toast and jam because no one actually wanted to eat after lunch and copious glasses of alcohol. He dragged Harry up to his bedroom, unaccountably nervous. His mind was on the two white boxes at the bottom of his suitcase, and even though he knew that Harry would love it, he was bricking it.

“So, I didn’t want to give this to you downstairs…” Niall felt blindly under the clothes piled into his suitcase and kept a careful eye on Harry. “And like, if you don’t like it, we can return it. No big deal-”

“Should I sit down or…do you want me standing?”

“Sitting’s fine.”

Harry sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and folded his hands in his lap, head tilted slightly to one side in the way that Niall always thought made him look like a page boy. His bottom lip was tucked under his teeth.

Niall had finally felt the box out and there was no point delaying it any longer. “I hadn’t actually bought you anything until yesterday because…never know what to get, do I?” He frowned at his own indecision. Should have just gotten Harry the coat he’d seen in Primark. “But we were in Galway and you mentioned wanting…just, here.”

Harry’s face went from polite anticipation, to confused, excited, and back to confusion. He took the box from Niall’s hand, slow and avoiding touching him as if skin on skin contact would vanish the white box now held between his index finger and thumb. Slowly, like bloody everything Harry did, he opened the lid. Then he was shaking his head.

“Niall, this…” Harry squeezed his eyes closed. “How much did you pa- I didn’t mean you had to buy me one especially…” He looked close to crying. Which, was _not_ how Niall had expected this to go. He’d bargained for polite refusal or for Harry to smile all big and goofy and unrestrained – he’d hoped for that one – but not tears. Fuck.

“It wasn’t very expensive, Haz,” It was €60 – £45 nearly. By itself, it wasn’t ridiculously expensive. Buying two of them was. “I got one for me as well, but…we can return them and get something else. There was a coat I saw back in Manchester. You know, the Primark down the road from work? Could get you something from there…”

Harry was shaking his head. Great. Now he’d completely driven him away. _Why’d he say all that last night? Should’ve just kept his mouth shut._ But just as he was about to reclaim the box and tell Harry not to think on it, Harry pulled the ring from its casing.

“Please don’t return it, Niall.” His voice was pitched low and quiet, and made Niall think of that stupid song his father loved: ‘ _chestnuts roasting on an open fire.’_ He raised his eyes to Harry’s – wide and earnest and so _sure_ , and he wondered how he’d doubted that Harry would like it.

“So…I should get my own out, or…?”

“Gonna have to tell me which way to wear it,” Harry grinned. “Don’t want all the family thinking I’m uncultured.”

“Just…” Niall shook his head and held out his hand. “Put it on with the heart facing outwards.” Harry, being the charming idiot he was, held his hand out and demanded Niall place it on himself.

“Be proper about it if we’re gonna do it at all. Right hand, yeah?”

“’Course, you idiot. We’re not married.” He slid the ring on easily, thanking his mother again for making him get it sized. It’d be just his luck to buy Harry a ring that didn’t even go past the second knuckle.

“What does it mean again?” Harry wondered just as Niall had slid his own ring on.

“See how ours are?” He wiggled his hand in Harry’s face, just in case he’d missed the memo. “Means you’re looking for love. If,” He bent his arm at the elbow and near whacked Harry in the side of the head. “It’s around the other way – heart facing your knuckle – that means your heart is taken.”

Harry held his hand up, mere inches from the end of his nose, and crossed his eyes to focus on the band on his finger. Niall had been right in the shop – the simple silver design of the ring _did_ look perfect on Harry’s slender fingers, stood out against the perpetual tan he managed while living in bloody Manchester: average temperature: 10°C.

“Makes my gift look stupid, now.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. Niall shook his head immediately.

“No, H. Love you gifts.” He did. For his birthday, Harry had bought him a Sherlock box set _and_ a box of scorched almonds _and_ marathoned the entire series with him when he should have been studying. Last Christmas, he’d gotten a leather bracelet with his class times engraved on the metal plate because he was always running late. Harry’s gifts were the best.

“’S what you say now…” Harry shook his head and leaned over to his suitcase. “I just…you were complaining about the car not having more than one CD drive, so.” He shrugged and thrust a carefully wrapped parcel at him.

Niall had always thought that one of the best parts about gift from Harry was how obvious it was that he’d spent an excruciatingly long time wrapping them. There were no funny edges sticking out, no places where the paper had ripped and cello tape had been hastily bunged over the hole. He took his time peeling off the tape, knowing that for all Harry bounced impatiently in his seat, he secretly loved that the same care he’d taken wrapping it was being taken in unwrapping it.

As soon as all the wrapping paper – shiny and blue and with a big white bow – was gone, Harry was tripping over himself to explain. Niall hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at his gift.

“I wanted to get you something else as well, but I accidentally spent too much on Mum and Gemma and Robin’s gifts and then I had to get something for Dad and Granddad, and by the time I realised that I didn’t really have much left…and work wouldn’t give me any extra shifts because I was already taking over Lauren’s position while she had her baby and…” He stopped and waved a hand at the CD case Niall was holding.

Now that Harry was finished and apparently not about to say anything more profound than ‘sorry I didn’t blow my budget on a ring’, Niall looked at what Harry had gotten him. It was a CD – front cover proudly displaying a picture of them with their cheeks pressed together, stupid grins on their faces.

Harry had left the picture alone, except to cut around the edges with a pair of children’s craft scissors that cut in squiggly lines, and glue a row of what Niall supposed were snowflakes along the top of the picture.

He smiled to himself because the additions were so _Harry._ He turned the case over to examine the track list. This had been handwritten, started off cursive and neat and then grown gradually smaller and hurried as Harry inevitably realised he was running out of room and crammed the words into the steadily shrinking space. The paper had been split in two – ‘Two Discs!’ announced in cheerful green ink.

Harry had clearly bought most of the songs since Niall knew for a fact neither of them owned them previously – a fact he constantly bemoaned – but the others had already been a part of their iTunes libraries.

“How long did this take you, Harry?” Niall asked, still reading through the track list: The Eagles, James Blunt, John Mayer, The 1975, Two Door Cinema Club, Katy Perry... The Pogues for goodness sake. It was all music Niall had mentioned liking, or artists he’d expressed curiosity in. He was overwhelmed with how much _time_ Harry must have spent on this – finding the songs, organising them into the order they were, burning them to the disc, writing it all out…

“Not…it wasn’t very long, really. Get a bit bored when you’re at work, so I had time and all.” Harry was biting his nails like he _actually_ thought that Niall wouldn’t like it.

“Oh my god, Harry this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten!” Niall set the CD aside and threw himself at Harry, toppling them both backwards onto the mattress. “Thank you!” He pressed his forehead into Harry’s neck and wriggled around until he was settled comfortably between Harry’s legs.

“You like it?” Harry’s arms found their way around Niall’s waist.

“Yes.” He breathed it out against Harry’s skin and they lay like that until Greg tapped on the door, and yelled at them to ‘come on, lovebirds! People are worrying ‘bout you.’

Niall laughed and dragged Harry up off the bed, taking his right hand and rubbing his fingers over the ring there. They walked into the living room to find everyone – all twenty one of them – staring at them with barely contained grins. Niall froze, gripping Harry’s hand tighter before Deo smirked and raised his hand to the doorframe above their heads.

Of course. Mistletoe. Just as they’d gotten comfortable around each other again, of course someone had to remind them of the ‘we’re just pretending to be boyfriends’ talk they’d had the night before.

“Bad luck not to kiss under mistletoe.” Martin shrugged faux-apologetically.

Niall turned to Harry and nodded softly. He leaned forward on his tiptoes and pressed their mouths together. Just as every time before, Harry’s mouth was soft and dry and warm, and he only gave himself a brief moment to register that before he pulled away back into his own space.

His family, being his family, booed them.

“That wasn’t a kiss!” Someone, probably Robert, yelled.

“Yeah! Greg ‘n’ Denise had a proper pash before you lot arrived!” Good old Auntie Janine.

“Snog, snog, snog, snog!” It was one of the Katies, who started that chant. Niall nudged Harry’s shoulder, still refusing to let go of his hand.

“We don’t hav-”

Harry stuck out his bottom lip in thought. “Why not give ‘em what they want? It’s Christmas!” He said it quietly enough that only Niall could hear over the chant still making its way around the room.

With a sigh and a shrug, Niall let go of Harry’s hand and wrapped his arms around his neck. “You sure?”

Harry answered by ducking down and pressing their lips back together. One hand went to the small of Niall’s back while the other found its way to the base of Niall’s neck, fingers ducking into his hair in a way Niall had only ever been privy to when Harry was kissing other boys in their kitchen.

Harry tilted his head and pressed their mouths together more firmly, tongue licking out over Niall’s bottom lip and shocking him into opening his mouth. As soon as that happened – as soon as Niall had tasted Harry, tasted the hint of whiskey cake settled under his tongue and the sweet hint of blueberry at the roof of his mouth – Niall stopped letting himself be kissed, and started kissing Harry back.

He tugged at Harry’s hair and pressed their hips closer. He stretched further onto his tiptoes to try and force Harry to kiss him harder, deeper, longer. Harry let out a soft moan into Niall’s mouth and his sharp little teeth dragged along Niall’s bottom lip.

They broke apart when someone in the background – oh, there were people here? – coughed. “Keep it PG, boys.”

Niall refrained from mentioning that it hadn’t been their idea in the first place and was rewarded by Harry bumping their noses together. He was glad for the continued presence of Harry’s arm at his waist when he turned back to face the centre of the room and was faced by excruciatingly enthusiastic clapping.

“We’ll just…” Niall moved towards the kitchen, dragging Harry with him and absolutely not thinking about how he’d never get that reaction if he brought an _actual_ boyfriend home. He didn’t actually get a chance to talk to Harry about what had just happened, because Maura popped into the kitchen after them.

“Let me see the rings, then!”

Harry let go of Niall’s waist to hold his hand in the air. Maura clapped both hands over her mouth and much to Niall’s dismay, didn’t hesitate to grab Harry by the wrist for closer examination. She immediately frowned up at Niall.

“He’s gone and put it on the wrong way around,” She sighed and thankfully looked to Harry for permission before she removed the ring from his finger and replaced it so the heart faced inwards.

_Your heart is taken._

Maura then tugged on Niall’s arm until he held his hand out for her to fix his ring. Satisfied, she leant up to pat both their cheeks. “Feel free to head back to your room. I’m sure you two want a bit of privacy on Christmas.”

She wasn’t wrong. Niall would give anything right now to be able to sit quietly with Harry, listen to stupid Christmas carols, and forget that they were meant to be pretend boyfriends. He wanted to be able to turn the ring around because knowing it was lying was making him uncomfortable.

Harry smiled after Maura and then ducked down to kiss Niall’s cheek.

“Stop thinking so much. My heart can be taken by you, I don’t mind.”

♥ ✈ ♥

Their last three days passed without much else happening. Everyone left after lunch on Boxing Day and Niall and Harry spent the 27th playing in the snow with a very bundled up Theo. They made a snowman for him to look at out the window, and then wrestled him into the car so everyone could drive into town for coffee.

The last day in Mullingar was bittersweet: Maura trying not to cry, Bobby telling Niall over and over again that he was proud of him, Greg telling them how much they’d both be missed, and Harry how much he was welcome to babysit Theo whenever he wanted.

The flight back to Manchester left at 4:30, check in was at half past three, and the drive to Dublin was an hour long. They left at one o’clock, in Greg’s car – Niall driving and Greg sitting in the back with Theo. They’d unanimously decided that Maura wasn’t allowed to see them to the airport because the goodbye at home was hard enough as it was.

At check in, they realise that Niall had somehow managed to amass enough extra stuff to take his bag a couple of KGs over the allowance, so they had a brief moment where they held up the line moving stuff between cases.

Harry nearly missed the boarding call because he was having a wee – Niall had insisted buying another orange juice was a bad idea, but Harry hadn’t listened – but all in all the airport run was a success.

They _did_ have an issue while on the plane because it was packed full. Since Harry’s tickets had been ordered after Niall’s, they were seated rows apart.

Right before the pilot announced that they plane had begun taxiing, Harry tapped the woman beside Niall on the shoulder and asked in his _most_ polite voice – the one he used when their rent was a day late – if she would mind moving because his _fiancé_ was terrified of flying.

“What are you doing?” Niall asked when Harry sat down next to him with a pleased smile.

“Sitting next to you.” As if it was obvious. Niall knew _that._

“I’m not your fiancé.”

“Also not my boyfriend. Didn’t have much problem with me telling your family I was. You’ll never see her again.” And, wow. That stung a bit.

Niall just shifted so his shoulder brushed Harry’s and settled in for the flight. There was no point arguing when it was true and they were _Just. Friends._

♥ ✈ ♥

Niall was glad when they were finally back in Manchester, out of the car, unpacked, and sitting next to each other on the couch – finally not pretending. He was glad that there was no one he had to hold Harry’s hand for, that no one was expecting him to pull Harry into a kiss when he brought him a plate of macaroni cheese.

He was certainly glad that there wasn’t any mistletoe in their flat, glad that no one cared what way around his ring was facing. He was glad – endlessly so, because now they could focus on forgetting about the tension of That Argument and get on with being best friends again – but he kind of missed sleeping next to Harry.

He missed the warmth that came with it, the security and companionship, and the knowledge that they weren’t just sharing the covers because Harry was feeling sad. He missed waking up to Harry’s elbow between his shoulder blades, and he knew that was a stupid thing to miss, but…

The lads came around the day after they returned from Ireland, loud and ridiculous and wearing bright orange Santa hats of all things.

“And you found orange ones where?” Niall opened the door and they ignored his question by piling on top of him.

“Merry Christmas to the happy couple!” There weren’t many times Niall wanted to strangle Liam, but at least it wasn’t Louis.

“Not a couple!” Harry called from the sofa, which…thanks for that reminder, Harry. Niall managed to disentangle himself from the three boys on the doorstep and they shuffled through the door.

Louis finally answered his question. “Got them at Tesco, didn’t we? Figured you two miserable bastards wouldn’t have Christmasified anything.” Harry was halfway through an objection that, no, they weren’t miserable bastards at all they just couldn’t afford tinsel when Zayn swooped.

“’We’re not a couple’, my left ball! You’re engaged!?” He grabbed Niall’s hand and waved it at Liam and Louis until Niall pulled away from him.

“I _told_ you they were shagging!” Louis crowed before Niall could stop them. Harry had…Harry had frozen on the couch. Fucking brilliant.

“Why didn’t you tell u-” Oh great! So now Liam had jumped on the bandwagon.

“It’s on my right hand you wankers!” Niall cut them off and didn’t look at Harry. “They’re _just rings!_ Don’t mean anything except that Harry wanted one and so I bought them. Stop…” He shook his head and ducked away from where Zayn was reaching for him with apologetic eyes. “Just stop, okay?”

Before anyone could do anything like apologise, or ask Harry to clarify the total meaninglessness of the whole thing, Niall legged it to his bedroom. He didn’t mean to slam the door, shouldn’t feel so angry over it, but…

He threw himself onto his bed – face buried in the pillow, hands resting by his head so he could glare daggers at the fucking ring. _Clearly_ it was on his right hand, absolutely not a fucking engagement ring for Christ’s sake, was Zayn bloody _blind_!?

Niall pulled the ring off and threw it across the room. Then he got up and picked it up – €60 was too much to get lost under all the junk lying around his bedroom. If he put it on his left hand (just to see how it would look) with the heart facing in – taken and kept and married and happy – then that was no one’s business.

A knock on the door gave Niall a heart attack while he wrenched the ring off and set it on the bedside table. Then he realised that that would kind of be like admitting defeat, and put it back on his right hand – heart facing truthfully outwards. Even if there _was_ some part of him doubting that now.

“C’m’ in.” He sat up against the headboard just in case it was Harry and he had to look unaffected. It was Liam.

“C’mere,” Liam held out his arms and Niall fell into them as soon as he was near enough. “What’s going on, Nialler?”

Niall’s head felt too heavy and he just wanted to go back to Ireland, back to before the argument with Harry, back to the day in Galway when they were happy and non-awkward and Them. He leaned into Liam’s neck, thankful for the fact that he hadn’t had a chance to sneak any of Harry’s cologne.

“I think…I don’t think this holiday was a good idea?”

Liam knew not to make any jokes about the weak state of everyone’s bank accounts at Christmas. “Why’s that, mate?” Niall sort of waved his hand around and Liam hugged him tighter. “Feelings?”

“Feelings.” Niall repeated miserably.

“Do you…” The reason Niall loved Liam so much was that, when it mattered, he was really careful with his words. “Do you think that maybe it’s just because of proximity? Of pretending to be with him all week?”

Niall thought about it for a while, thought about how _nice_ it had been to just be with Harry over the past five days (seven, if he counted the period before they flew to Ireland). He shook his head. “Reckon they’vebeen there for longer.”

Liam made a noise in the back of his throat and didn’t say anything for a while. Then, “You going to tell him?”

“’Course not. I’ll get over it, Li’. He’ll bring a few boys home and I’ll mope a bit and then I’ll get over meself.” Niall figured if he repeated that enough, it would come true eventually. He’d gotten over Darragh, he could do this.

He could move past thinking of how soft Harry’s skin was, how nice it felt to run his fingers through his hair, how easy it was to sit beside him, to fall asleep curled around him, how settled he felt with the smell of Harry curling around him. He could forget the way his stomach had flipped when they’d snogged, whenever they’d kissed.

But there was voice in the back of Niall’s head telling him that Harry was _nothing_ like Darragh, that even just as a friend he was so much _more_. Niall pushed it away.

“Okay.”

Niall thought Liam must be having dinner parties with that voice in his head. He ignored the uncertainty in Liam’s voice, and let himself be held.

In the morning, Niall really, really did not want to get out of bed. Liam must have tucked him in once he fell asleep on his shoulder. But…Harry was downstairs and Niall did not want to do this. He really, really didn’t want to.

After a ten minute pep talk, he managed to force himself down the hallway and into the shower. But then it was back to his room and spending fifteen minutes getting dressed just so he could say he hadn’t sat in his room doing nothing in order to avoid Harry, and still be honest.

It took another ten minutes to pluck up the courage to walk into the kitchen, but somehow he was there – staring at Harry’s back as he fussed over something on the bench.

“Think the kettle’s broken.” Harry had always had a sixth sense for knowing when Niall was in a room.

“How’d that happen? Was fine when we left.” Niall thought he should get an award for keeping his voice stable. Revelations, he decided, were not fun at all and no one should have any. Ever.

“And now it isn’t, Niall, okay?” He turned into the centre of the room – eyebrows drawn down in a frown Niall had never been the focus of. “Not like you’d know, anyway. Ran off to your room as soon as you could. Thought you said it didn’t matter if Louis thought we were fucking.”

“I never said that!” Niall crossed his arms over himself in such a way that protected him but could be interpreted as defensive if a fight was what Harry was looking for.

“Well thanks very bloody much! Make me feel like a right twat.” When Harry got mad, his voice got low and solid and absolutely _nothing_ like the usual honey thick drawl.

“How, Harry? How have I made you feel like a twat?!” If Harry wanted a fight, Niall would give him a fight. Maybe if he could stay mad enough at Harry, he could get over his feeling for him along with his fury.

“Oh, do you want a list?” He slammed a hand down on the bench and Niall jumped. Wasn’t used to Harry getting loud and harsh. “You looked at me like I was barmy when I suggested going with you. You didn’t even say thank you, which…I didn’t have to, but I gave up my holiday for you-”

“You wouldn’t have been doing anything, Harry! Your parents were away, Gemma was away, the lads were all away! You _hate_ being alone! You were a _mess_ when Ethan left!” He didn’t mean to say that, he really didn’t mean to say that.

“And you _hated_ Ethan, didn’t you Niall? You just couldn’t _wait_ until he was gone and you could all laugh at pathetic little Harry who actually thought his boyfriend would change for him.” Harry ran a hand over his face, violent like he never was. “You took me to Galway and then acted like it never happened, acted like that wasn’t the best bloody day either of us have had!”

Harry wasn’t wrong there. Galway had been the best day of Niall’s life – he didn’t have to pretend or tone anything down – they had just been themselves and had an amazing day. But…he hadn’t thought he’d acted like it never happened. Harry was still talking.

“And then you went and told me you thought we were only mates because it was easy to pay the bills. I thought…I was so upset, Niall. I thought that you really believed that, and that nothing we’d done together had been _real_. You let me think that, and then you went and told me you loved me, and acted like none of _that_ had happened, either.”

Harry sniffled and all Niall wanted to do was reach out and touch him, but they were fighting. That wasn’t allowed.

“I could have…could have dealt with that, but then we kissed – properly – and you looked so happy afterwards. But your mum turned the rings around and it was as if that was the worst thing you could imagine – that she thought we’d taken each other’s hearts,” Harry was so far off base, but Niall didn’t correct him – couldn’t correct him. Harry couldn’t know.

“And yesterday. Would being engaged to me really be that awful? Because I like to hope not, but it seems that that’s what you think. Like, ‘we’re not wearing the rings because they _mean_ anything,’” Harry put on an Irish accent and usually that was endearing but now it just _hurt_. “‘Don’t worry, we aren’t _engaged_. It was just something I bought because Harry was being childish and I thought I should play along. Let’s all laugh at how _ridiculous_ he is, shall we lads?’”

Harry was breathing hard and he looked like he was about to cry if he had to say another word. Niall never knew how to deal with an upset Harry.

“I…” He reached forwards, wanting to do _something_ to stop Harry tearing at his bottom lip like that.

“Just…just don’t, Niall.” Harry held his arm up, shielding himself, and Niall had never wanted the ground to swallow him up more than he did right then.

He nodded shakily and somehow managed to stop himself from sprinting down the hallway to his bed. He took the return journey at a fast walk, head down, clenching his teeth so hard he knew his jaw would cramp when he relaxed.

Just before Niall let the tears roll over, Louis walked out of the bathroom. Of _course_ Louis had stayed over. Of _course_ he’d just had an almighty screaming row with Harry while Louis was in their flat. Of course, of course, of-fucking-course.

“I’ll talk to him, Niall.” Louis brushed his arm in passing and Niall gave up on not running. He shut the door firmly behind himself and slid down it until he was crouched on the floor, head pillowed in his arms.

Harry and him _never_ rowed. He thought about Harry’s face when he’s left – lip held between his teeth like it was his lifeline, hands clenching the rim of the bench so hard his knuckles were white, ring nowhere to be seen.

Then he let himself cry.

♥ ✈ ♥

Niall managed to avoid Harry for the next three days. He woke up at ungodly hours to shower and make himself a bowl of cornflakes that were probably past their use by date, and be safely back in his room by the time Harry woke up to get ready for his early Tuesday shift.

He was well aware he was ruining everyone’s New Year’s plans – sitting on Zayn’s couch watching old episodes of _Live at the Apollo_ , while Liam, Louis, and Harry were making good on the pub crawl they’d planned with Perrie. Perrie who was currently without her boyfriend on New Year’s.

It was selfish, but Niall really didn’t care at all. It meant he didn’t have to watch Harry hang drunkenly off a stranger’s arm, didn’t have to fear going back to their flat and thinking about making breakfast for three, meant he didn’t ruin everything else by saying something stupid. Well…more stupid than what he’d already said, anyway.

The night before, despite his best efforts at not contacting Harry, he’d heard Harry and a voice he definitely didn’t recognise giggling in the lounge. Then a welcome silence where Niall counted his blessings, before a rhythmic thudding started up.

In the _living room,_ for crying out loud. So. Niall had thrown his resolution to avoid Harry out the window as soon as the other guy left, and had yelled at him through the wall about how he’d: _“make him pay for a new sofa if you’re going to make a habit of sleeping with the whole city.”_

It was nothing he hadn’t said before – they were always joking about the imaginary tally chart on Harry’s head board – but Harry hadn’t replied with how it was “ _better than being a blushing virgin my whole life_ ’, and there had been nothing but silence from the room across from Niall’s.

Niall didn’t mean to be such an arsehole, he really didn’t. But that didn’t stop Zayn from nudging him in an ad break and taking a deep, fortifying breath.

“Harry’s been pretty quiet.”

“Has he?” Niall muted the woman going on about buying a Chrisco hamper and pulled his legs up under himself. “Hadn’t noticed over his orgasms.”

Zayn frowned. “Thought you two had an agreement when he brought lads home?”

“Before he started sleeping with every guy over 18 within a fucking ten kay radius.” Niall knew he was being unfair.

Zayn had never had any qualms in telling Niall when he was being a pillock, and now was no different. “What’s going on with you, Niall.”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on with me. Harry, on the other hand...” He was expecting a deeper frown, a long-suffering sigh….he wasn’t expecting a clip around the ear that Zayn happily dished out.

“Buck up, Niall! He’s your best mate. I don’t know what’s going on with you two – Liam and Louis seem to be keeping that information to themselves, and you’re both keeping your cards close to your chests…” He did sigh, then. “If you don’t want to tell us what’s going on, that’s on you. I don’t care. But I’m not sitting here and letting you talk about Harry like that. That’s not you, Niall. This isn’t you.”

He was right. Of course he was right, he was Zayn. Zayn who everyone went to in a crisis, Zayn who’d screamed bloody murder at Ethan when he wouldn’t leave Harry be, Zayn who sat quietly and let most things wash over him but wouldn’t stand to hear a bad word about anyone he loved.

“You’re right. I- I’m sorry. I’ve been a prick, and I shouldn’t be involving you in my drama. I’m sorry, Zayn.”

He turned the remote over and over in his hand, fiddled with the battery casing because he knew Zayn hated when he bit his nails, couldn’t stand the sound or the thought of it. When Zayn scooted closer to him on the sofa, pulled the remote out of his hands and the rest of him into a hug, Niall melted into it.

With the exception of Harry (who Niall wasn’t going to think about right now), Zayn gave the best hugs. He smelled like cigarette smoke (even though he was trying to quit) and soap, and worn cotton. Compared to the other lads, he was a tiny waif of a person, but he hugged with his whole body and…. It reminded Niall of getting in a scarp back home and going to Greg for a hug and a promise to beat someone up.

“I know you are, Nialler. You wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“I fall too hard and too fast, and I’ve always known that. I thought I could keep Harry separate from that part of me, but it turns out I can’t, actually.” Niall turned his head so he faced away from Zayn but was still resting on his shoulder.

“And…you’ve not talked to him.” It wasn’t a question – all the lads were convinced Zayn had cameras installed everywhere, he knew everything that was going on. Though Niall secretly thought it was just that Zayn’s habit of appearing quiet and unassuming was the method really at play.

“Yelled at him through the wall about being a slag. Does that count?”

“Don’t think it does, Niall.” Zayn stroked a hand through his hair, and unmuted the TV. Midnight came and went and Niall didn’t think about Harry kissing a wide shouldered, dark haired stranger in a pub somewhere, only because he was fast asleep in Zayn’s lap.

He woke up with Zayn moulded to his back, and a crick in his neck because he’d been using the stubborn arm of the sofa as a pillow all night long. Harry would have moved him to a bed.

Rather than lay there and mope about the distinct lack of a body longer than his at his back, Niall got up and put the kettle on. He stuck a couple slices of toast in for Zayn – the rye bread he insisted on spending exorbitant amounts of money on just so he could enjoy seeds stuck in his teeth – and wandered off to have a shower.

He wasn’t all too keen to put on his old clothes after drowning himself in Zayn’s body washes (how he afforded half the stuff he lived with, Niall had _no_ clue but he wasn’t complaining), so he wrapped the towel around his waist and stole some joggers and a threadbare black shirt from Zayn’s room.

Back in the kitchen and pleasantly warm, Niall poured himself a tea and heaped coffee and sugar into Zayn’s cup, before buttering the toast and returning to the lounge to shake Zayn awake. He’d found out that the best (and only) way to wake Zayn up and survive with all limbs intact, was to bribe him with fresh coffee.

“’W’ y’ wan’?” Zayn had shifted into the space left by Niall’s departure and was lying with his face buried in the sofa cushions and one leg thrown over the side.

“Got you breakfast, Z.” Niall crouched down to touch his shoulder and hold the cup of coffee in Zayn’s face with the other hand.

It seemed to work. “Y’ gon’ talk t’ Haz today?” Niall supposed that was better than being called an ‘almighty cock-sucking knob’ – not that Niall minded, not that Niall had refrained from telling Zayn that that was _exactly_ what he was.

“Probably not.”

Zayn seemed to have been expecting that. “You at least not gonna avoid him?”

“I haven-” Niall had no ground to stand on. “I’ll try not to avoid him,” Zayn was looking dangerously close to ignoring his offering of coffee and just offing Niall instead. “I won’t avoid him.”

Satisfied, Zayn sat up and took the plate of toast and the coffee. “Mind you return those washed and folded,” He jutted his chin at Niall’s attire and then pulled him in for a hug. “Get on home.”

Niall did ‘get on home’, but he took a detour to Primark to grab Harry an _I’m-sorry-I’ve-been-a-dick-I-just-like-you-a-lot_ jumper. Primark being Primark, the detour turned into ten minutes of looking for a jumper that Harry would actually want and another twenty minutes of queuing. Something Darragh and Sean and Deo and Martin would rib him endlessly for – England being the land of queues, and all.

He walked back to the flat even though it was _this_ close to sheeting down, because Harry had taken the car when he left to meet Louis and Liam the night before. Niall didn’t mind – he grew up in Ireland – but that was because he forgot that Primark was ‘environmentally friendly’ and gave out _paper bags_.

After a fifteen minute walk, Harry’s jumper was soaked and Niall was cold and disappointed in himself and forgot about the fact that Harry might not be pleased to see him. He unlocked the door to their flat and toed off his shoes – soaked through – neatly at the door because Harry was forever lecturing them about not leaving things where visitors (read: Harry) could trip over them.

He dumped the bag in the middle of the kitchen table and didn’t even notice Harry leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen until he had the kettle on to boil.

“So ignoring me wasn’t enough. You’re pretending I don’t even exist now?” Harry had never been able to disguise the hurt in his voice, even if he had almost perfected his poker face.

Niall ducked his head close to his chest so he didn’t have to look at the unbridled emotion in Harry’s eyes. He didn’t think this apology would work very well if his heart was clenching any more than it already was.

“I’m sorry, Haz. I’ve been a prick.”

“Little bit, yeah.’ Harry scoffed.

Niall lifted his thumbnail to his mouth and filed off a rough edge. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that not…being around you constantly would help.” Even to his own ears, it was a feeble excuse.

“Has it?” Harry’s eyebrows were drawn together and his bottom lip jutted out like it always did whenever he was deciding between anger, confusion, or upset.

“Nah. Got you a jumper…” Niall nodded to the soggy lump in the middle of the table and shrugged. “Was meant to be an apology gift, but it was raining and Primark-”

“Needs to stop looking out for the environment and look out for its damn customers,” Harry finished. “I know. You say it every time we go there.”

Niall nodded and met Harry’s gaze for the first time in three days – green eyes tired and wearing an unreadable expression that Niall imagined was…. But he couldn’t go there. He was getting over Harry and letting him shag whoever he wanted.

“You what?” Harry was frowning again, face sweetly crumpled in confusion.

 _Fuck._ He’d said it out loud. Maybe Liam and Zayn thought telling him was a good idea, but it really, really wasn’t. Harry wasn’t _meant_ to know. He was meant to get a boyfriend and move out, and Niall was going to be upset for a bit and then he’d get the hell over it….

“Is this what you’ve been all mardy about?”

Niall considered lying, but decided against it. “Lil’ bit. But it’s okay, Harry! I’ll get over meself.”

Harry was quiet for a long moment, long enough that Niall started fidgeting again, fully preparing to run out of the room and ring Zayn up to come shoot him. Then: “Do I get any say in this?”

That… _really_ wasn’t on the list of Possible Things Harry Might Say that had been running through Niall’s head since his return from Primark. “I… What?”

“What if I don’t want you to move on?”

“But- Why wouldn’t…you?”

Harry was looking at Niall like he was dense. “Do you honestly think I would have suggested this whole thing if I just wanted to be your friend?”

“Well, yeah?” Niall was seriously confused. Harry was just being a decent mate, that morning in the kitchen.

“Would Louis or Zayn have pretended to be your boyfriend for a week?” Harry asked. “And don’t say yes, because all of us have kissed after a couple drinks too many, but even _Liam_ wouldn’t have done it if you’d _begged_.”

Niall thought about that, and realised that what he’d been telling himself – that it was okay, because what were a few kisses between mates? – didn’t actually stack up. It was like back in bloody algebra, when he’d thought his equation was right but it didn’t work with anything else he substituted. If he took Harry out of the situation, brought Louis in or Zayn, then a few kisses between mates was something that only happened if all parties involved were sloshed.

He and Harry had certainly _not_ been sloshed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Harry sighed and moved towards Niall. “So, _what if I don’t want you to move on_?” His face was dangerously close to Niall’s now – breath fanning over his cheekbones.

“Suppose you’d have to stop bringing strange boys home…” Niall swallowed thickly and definitely saw Harry’s eyes drop down to his mouth.

“Would depend on whether or not I had a not-so-strange boy waiting at home or not?” Harry’s voice had dropped – voice thick and low and tender, and Niall’s heart was rabbiting away in his chest.

“Would this boy be well kept?”

Harry let his hands settle on Niall’s hips, and Niall shivered. “I would ensure it.”

Niall threw caution to the wind then, tilting his chin the fraction of the inch needed to bump their mouths together. Harry moaned against his mouth and swept his tongue along Niall’s bottom lip, licking into Niall’s mouth and drawing soft sighs from him.

While Harry tightened his grip on his hips, Niall lifted his arms and looped them around Harry’s neck, pressing their hips together and refusing to break contact with Harry’s lips – soft and sweet and firm and slightly chapped as though he’d been biting them.

Harry’s hands dropped down to palm Niall’s bum and lifted him up onto the counter where Niall wasted no time in wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips and tangling his hands in his hair. Harry was making the most exquisite noises and Niall’s pulse was racing so quickly he was surprised Harry couldn’t feel it.

One thing he definitely could feel, though, was the growing bulge pressed against his hip. Niall was considering pulling back and apologising profusely, but then Harry pressed their hips more firmly together and Niall realised he was in the exact same position.

“Bed?” Harry breathed wetly against his ear and Niall moaned in answer, unwilling to do much more than mouth a love bite into the soft skin at the base of Harry’s ear.

When Harry had stumbled down the hallway and managed to flop them both onto the bed without knocking into any door frames, Niall gained enough presence of mind to check in on something. “Harry?”

“Mmn?” Harry was very busy with wriggling Niall out of Zayn’s t-shirt.

“Are we…” He pushed Harry and his teeth away from the underside of his jaw. “Is this…?” Harry was being incredibly persistent and had moved on to nibbling on the shell of Niall’s ear in lieu of access to his throat. Niall shoved – albeit reluctantly – at his shoulders and Harry finally stopped his biting.

“Niall?” He looked down at Niall with big, earnest eyes, and Niall was unreasonably terrified that Harry was about to declare this all a mistake and kick him out. “Do you want to be my boyfriend? For real this time?”

“Reckon I might do, yeah.” Niall grinned against Harry’s lips and bent forwards at the waist so Harry could tug the shirt over his head and press kisses down his chest, lingering around his belly button and the V of his hips.

“Slow?” Harry murmured against his ribcage and Niall tangled his hands in Harry’s hair, pulling him up to place grateful kisses all over his face. Niall _wasn’t_ actually a virgin, and Harry knew that, he wasn’t asking to spare Niall’s innocence. Niall knew it was that neither of them wanted to take this fast, rush into things and then fall away from each other.

He unbuttoned Harry’s shirt and let it drop to the bed. “Slow’s good, yeah.”

Harry breathed something that may have been a ‘good’, into Niall’s bare shoulder and then dropped his hand to palm Niall gently through the fabric of his trousers. Niall rutted upwards, giving Harry the friction of his thigh, and before long they were panting into each other’s mouths, orgasms overtaking them in soft, gentle waves.

Breathing heavily, Harry rolled off Niall and pillowed his head on Niall’s outstretched arm, nose digging into the pale skin near his armpit.

“Reckon we should turn these rings around. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking your heart was theirs for the taking.”

Niall laughed shakily into Harry’s hair and ran his finger over the cool silver on Harry’s right ring finger. “Mhm…some strange boy’s got the idea that it’s his.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested, [this](http://www.glencara.com/media/catalog/product/cache/3/image/265x265/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/s/s/ss-r27-wgp-all__1.jpg) is the ring Niall buys himself and Harry


End file.
